


Destiel Is Cockles' Fault

by Fangirling_FTW



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Bottom Misha Collins, Cockles, Cockles AU - Freeform, Edging, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Dom/sub undertones, Mild Homophobic Behavior, Smut, Switching, Top Jensen Ackles, Top Misha Collins, honestly idk what to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirling_FTW/pseuds/Fangirling_FTW
Summary: For two years Misha Collins has been working on Supernatural, but it's only been a few months since he started crushing on his coworker and best friend Jensen Ackles.  Knowing his friend is straight, Misha is content to just be friends, and with him leaving the show indefinitely next season, that is probably for the best anyway.But it seems Jensen may have other plans.***Cockles AU where Misha accidentally falls in love with Jensen, and Jensen can't seem to figure it out.





	1. 1. No One Dies on Supernatural

**Author's Note:**

> So, here’s a disclaimer since this is a RPF. While some events and timelines are going to be exactly the same, there are some changes that have been made so the story flows better, as well as assumptions of how the showbiz industry works because I will admit to having no clue about the reality of half of this lol. I have definitely made some major changes to the characterization of J2M, and I am also treating their SO’s/friends/family as original characters, so small details about their lives, where they live, etc, have changed. 
> 
> One primary, major story changing difference- Jensen and Misha are not dating, nor are they married to Danneel/Vicki. While I’m all on board with JDMV and the head canon that Misha has an open marriage, it was just easier for me to write it this way. I think that’s it, if I think of any more disclaimers I’ll put them in the beginning of the chapters.

**_March 24th, 2011_ **

 

“Goddammit, Jared!”  Misha snaps, lashing out ineffectively at his co star, who was supposed to be stabbing him in the back with a fake angel blade.  Instead he was poking him in all sorts of... inappropriate places.  Jared dances away from Misha’s swing, and he almost hits the camera rig set up about chest high to film the moment Sam sneaks up and stabs Castiel in the back.

“Jared, enough, we need to wrap this up!”  The director Bob Singer calls from somewhere behind the camera.

“Alright, alright,” Jared sighs, shaking out his gangly arms and changing back into Sam.  The effect is still unsettling to Misha, even after two years working on this show.  Jared and Jensen just seemed to have a knack for slipping into character instantly, while it always takes Misha a few extra minutes after they fuck with him.  It didn't help that currently he was trying to be capital G “God”, and nearly everyone on set had been giggling as he tried to deliver his lines.  Okay, so maybe Misha was nowhere near that BAMF in real life, but dammit he was an actor, he could pull this off...if his co workers could act like adults for more than five minutes.

“And...ACTION!”

There's a couple footsteps behind him and a jolt to his lower back as the prop knife hits him, locking into place against the magnet.  The setup was more elaborate than what they usually did but Singer had wanted to capture the whole moment without breaking away.  Jared gasps and stumbles back a couple steps while Misha attempts to look mildly amused and bored at the same time, reaching behind him to grab the fake knife.  The trick blade slides back out as he pulls it away from his back slowly.  

“Good, let’s reset, try that again!”  They repeat the scene for a few more takes until-  “CUT!!”  Singer’s voice causes a flurry of motion on the set as the crew moves about in their practiced dance.  “Okay, check the gate.  That's a wrap for today folks!”  The crew continues to move around them, efficiently breaking down the set for the next scene they’ll be filming tomorrow.

“Good job today,” Jared says, clapping Misha on the back fondly.  “I mean it, this is gonna look badass.”  Misha smiles up at his friend, unable to stay mad at Jared for long.  The gangly moose of a man had a calming, happy presence that easily set everyone at ease.

“Thanks, Jared,” he sighs, and the two of them start to make their way from set to the makeup trailer.  “Though it’ll be a relief tomorrow when I’m working with Jim and Jensen without you,” Misha adds for good measure.  Jared’s laugh is infectious, and Misha finds himself chuckling right along with him.

“Dude, Jensen can be just as bad as me,” Jared points out, climbing the steps into the makeup trailer.

“True, but he doesn't seem as fascinated with my genitalia as you are.”

“Ooh, do I sense some disappointment?”

“More like sheer relief but I can see how you'd get them confused.”

As they drop into their seats, Sarah and Jeannie moving around them expertly, and Misha closes his eyes to let his mind drift for a moment, listening to Jared chat away about his recent wedding to Genevieve.  A small twinge of jealousy threatens to ruin Misha’s mood, but he brushes it aside.  

He'd had his chance once, he’d fallen in love with Vicki Vantoch from the moment he met her in high school, and they stayed together all the way through college.  She’d brought out so much in him, a spontaneity and a motivation to  _ do  _ something in this world, and a love of adventure.  He’d learned a lot about love and sex too, their relationship just as open and adventurous as their lives, and Misha’s acceptance of his bisexuality was easy.  When Misha switched his career from politics to acting, Vicki didn’t follow him to LA, instead choosing to stay in Chicago and finish her doctorate.  After a rough couple months without seeing each other, they had mutually decided long distance wasn't going to work for them.  Neither of them was willing to give up their dream, and Misha knew neither he nor Vicki would ever ask that of each other.  Vicki was still very much his best friend, and his confidant, and yeah sometimes a physical  _ partner,  _ but their romance had faded for good.  

Since they’d broken up he hadn't really seen anyone on a serious basis, and in fact, since starting Supernatural three years ago, he hadn't dated anyone.  

If he was completely honest, for the past few months there was a very specific person he wanted to date.  

Too bad they weren't interested in dating  _ him _ .

“You're all set, Misha!”  Misha pulled out of his reverie long enough to smile at Sarah, and give her and Jeannie hugs before patting Jared on the shoulder and leaving for his trailer to change out of his wardrobe.  In spite of how much he pretended to hate working with Jared and Jensen, he’s going to miss this when he’s gone.

When he'd first gotten the four episode job playing Castiel, he'd been ecstatic, hoping some screen time on an established show like that would help get him some more jobs.  He'd shown up on set for his first day of filming, his wardrobe at least one size too big, two sizes in the case of his white shirt, his hair combed out and then re-tousled, and discovered he was way out of his element.  He was used to being the guest star, the one and done, but the community between everyone who worked on this show had made him feel even more awkward and out of place than any job before.

Misha had never imagined what it would turn into, how loved his performance would be by the fans and how easily Eric Kripke and the writers decided to keep him.  Now, a few years and thousands of twitter followers later, he's found an incredible group of friends and an amazing fan community to call his own.  He has a luxury apartment in Washington state, where he'd moved this past year to help cut down his travel time.  It didn’t take long for him to fall in love with the town his apartment was in, and now he’d just about finished the process of building a house in the small community.

The only downside to his current life?  The apartment was always empty when he went home.

His best friend Darius had moved to Oregon, and Vicki had also recently relocated to San Francisco, but they had lives and careers of their own, and could only visit every so often during Misha’s breaks between episodes.  He may not be alone, between his online followers and the many people he engaged with professionally, but he was definitely starting to feel  _ lonely. _

“Hey, Misha!”  He pauses just before entering his trailer, glancing to his right as Jensen saunters up to him, all bow legs and swagger.

Misha can still remember, clear as day, the first time he met Jensen in person.  His first scene he'd shot was conveniently his grand entrance into the barn.  Misha had been so nervous on set, the FX guys explaining the exploding lights, the hair girls wetting his hair down, the pressure that if he so much as flinched when the bulbs were going off it would take almost two hours to reset them.  And in the midst of all that, Jensen Ackles had walked up with a hand out to introduce himself.  The man was gorgeous, anyone with two eyes could see that, and no video or photo could have prepared Misha for meeting those green eyes in person.  Misha had muttered a short  _ hello _ in his Cas voice, just trying to get the timber right, and Jensen had looked at him like he was crazy.  A look that had only intensified as they finished filming the rest of his scenes in that episode.  After a rocky few months, Jensen and Jared had grown accustomed to Misha’s quirks, and Misha was amazed at how quickly the two of them folded him into their friendship.  

Now two years later, Jensen has become one of Misha’s closest friends.  It was a friendship Misha hadn't seen coming, considering how much work Jensen put into his ‘image’, where Misha was all about breaking through perceptions.  Maybe it was because Jensen knew Misha could see right through him, but there was something unique to his and Jensen’s bond, something he didn't share with Jared, or even Darius and Vicki.  Jensen, without Misha even trying, easily dropped his carefully cultivated ‘actor’ self when it was just the two of them; he confided in Misha, and in turn Misha let down his guard as well.  Jensen always had a knack for knowing exactly what Misha needed to hear and when, and Misha could always tell when Jensen just needed a laugh.  They had a comfortable banter, a way they almost flirted but kept it just on this side of platonic.

Maybe the intimacy of their friendship, or the way Misha sometimes forgot Jensen wasn’t  _ actually  _ flirting with him, was why in the last few months Misha has been harboring a massive crush on his  _ straight _ coworker.  He couldn’t even pinpoint the ‘magic’ cause for why it had happened, he’d simply arrived on set one day and when he saw Jensen, he just  _ knew _ .

He hated it, but at the same time he clung to it desperately.  It made him feel less alone.

“Jensen,” Misha greets once Jensen is standing at the foot of Misha’s steps, pulling open his trailer door and waving Jensen inside.  He got an upgrade to a larger trailer this season, a tiny couch in one corner, a little kitchenette in the other, and in the back a small section partitioned off for privacy.

“So, last day of season six tomorrow,” Jensen grunts, dropping onto Misha’s couch.  Jensen’s presence fills the whole trailer, and there's suddenly not enough room for the two of them anymore.  Misha doesn’t really mind.  Jensen is already in his own jeans and tshirt, having finished his scenes earlier that afternoon, and even from five feet away Misha can smell his cologne.

“Hmm,” Misha shrugs out of his trench coat, hanging it on its hanger before sliding out of his jacket, trying not to feel too conscious of Jensen watching him undress.   _ Fucking crushing like a stupid kid. _

“That's it?  ‘Hmm’?” Jensen scoffs.

“Sorry,” Misha sighs.  “It's been a long day of me being stabbed by Jared.”  He ungracefully yanks his tie off and undoes the buttons on his cuffs.

“I can see by your lackluster strip tease,” Jensen snorts a laugh.  Misha rolls his eyes, taking off the white dress shirt to his bare chest and hanging it up while Jensen talks.  “There's a wrap party day after tomorrow for the shooting crew, if you wanna go.”

“Dunno,” Misha mumbles as he grabs his own clothes and steps behind the partition.  “Might just head home tomorrow.”  He's being moody, he knows he is, and subconsciously he understands it's just to get Jensen’s attention in a petty, childish way, but he's feeling fairly petty so he just rolls with it.

“What's gotten into you?” Jensen asks, and the genuine soft concern makes Misha answer honestly.

“I talked to Sera Gamble this morning.”  There's a beat where he practically hears Jensen taking that in.

“Oh,” is all Jensen says.  

“Knew this would happen as soon as I got the script for “ _ Mommy Dearest _ ”.”  Misha finished dressing, walking out from behind the partition in a pair of jeans and a blue button up.  He hangs the rest of his costume up and slides it into the garment bag wardrobe had given him, along with Cas’ dress shoes.  “Godstiel meets his demise in the second episode next season,” Misha goes on to explain, not caring about being asked to keep quiet until SDCC was over.

“So, what does that mean for Cas?  Is he human again?” Jensen wonders.  Misha smiles, a bitter, humorless twist of his lips.

“Such an optimist,” he sighs, going into the fridge and pouring himself a glass of water out of his Brita pitcher.  He's not even looking at Jensen and he can  _ feel _ the shift in his friend’s mood from across the trailer.

“You're fucking with me,” Jensen grunts.

“Sadly, no.  Castiel is being written off the show.”  Misha hopes it comes across casual, like he doesn't care, but when he looks over at Jensen he can see Jensen isn't buying it.

“What the hell are they thinking?” Jensen wonders out loud, his voice angry.  “How are they living in such a void that they can't see how much people like Cas?”  Misha shrugs, drinking his water.  He's sure it'll hit him later, but he’s kinda numb to being let go at the moment.  

“I'm sure I'll find more work,” Misha mutters.  “I should be used to this by now anyway.”

“They're making a mistake,” Jensen insists, pushing himself to his feet.  “And I've half a mind to march down there and let them fucking know-”  Misha moves in between Jensen and the door, stopping him with a hand to his chest.  Which was its own form of bad idea.

“Jensen, stop.”

“Why should I?” Jensen snaps.

“You're not exactly supposed to know,” Misha points out, “and if I want any hope of coming back to this show someday I probably shouldn't get in any trouble.”  Misha feels Jensen relax under his palm and pulls his hand back, turning away and grabbing his costume.

“Hey, for what it's worth, sorry,” Jensen says quietly.  Misha's heart does that stupid thumping thing against his sternum, and he shrugs his garment bag over his shoulder.

“It's fine, Jensen.”  Misha turns to his friend and offers a smile.  “I'll be back to my usual weird self in a day or two.”  Jensen looks skeptical, but doesn't say anything, just reaches over and squeezes Misha’s shoulder as he opens the trailer door.

Misha makes sure he ignores the way Jensen’s hand trails down his back.

“You wanna grab dinner with me and Jared tonight?” Jensen offers as they make their way towards the wardrobe trailer.  “If you don't wanna be alone, we’re just going out for sandwiches.”  Misha considers declining, but the hope in Jensen’s eyes makes him smile a genuine smile.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Misha agrees.  Jensen smiles back, and yeah, a night out with the two of them is worth it just for that.

“Great, we’ll pick you up from your apartment in a couple hours.”  Jensen nudges him with his shoulder before moving off towards the motor pool.  Misha may or may not have watched him go.

“I really am pathetic,” Misha sighs to himself as he climbs the steps to the wardrobe trailer.  He hands off the garment bag with a small smile and turns for his own car, climbing behind the wheel with a heavy sigh.  He didn't even bother turning on his music for the short drive from the studio to the temporary apartment he used while filming, using the silence to try and clear his head.  People were so used to him laughing this kind of thing...well, laughing everything away, really.  It was hard to admit that the untouchable, shrugs-it-off Misha Collins sometimes had his own share of shitty days.  He parks in his usual parking spot, waving at the security guard as he walked into the lobby and up the stairs.  Once he steps into his apartment he breathes a sigh of relief, and before he even kicks his shoes off his phone rings.

“I swear to god you're psychic,” he sighs when he answers, and Vicki’s laugh is a soothing balm against his sour mood.

“I'd say lucky more than psychic,” she hums.  “So, how was work?”

“Same as always, molested by Jared, laughed at by the crew.  The usual.”  Misha knows he's not fooling Vicki, but it was worth a try.

“Misha, what happened?” she asks quietly.  Misha drops onto his couch and tells her everything.  How he's being let go, and they insist it's not anything Misha did, but a new direction they're taking with the show.  The hollow platitudes of  _ no one really dies on Supernatural _ .  He knows he rambles on a bit but Vicki lets him, her patience one of the cornerstones in Misha’s life.

“What is it about me, Vik?”

“Mish-”

“I mean, why can't I do anything right?”

“Dimitri,” she snaps, and Misha stops talking.  “Baby, you've  _ got  _ to stop beating yourself up.  Just because the showrunner on this soap opera with monsters decides they don't want your character on the show doesn't mean people don't love you.”

“I know,” Misha sighs.  “I don't know why I'm suddenly being so emo about all this, I was fine all damn day.”

“You're allowed to be upset about getting fired.  You're  _ not _ allowed to think it's because people hate you.”  Misha smiles, running his hand through his hair.

“You big softy.”

“You know me,” she laughs.  “Are you gonna be alone tonight?”

“Why?  Should I be?” Misha smirks.

“Dirty.  And I was merely worried.  I know how you get when you're upset and by yourself.”  Misha’s heart swells with affection for her.

“I'm gonna grab something to eat with Jackles and Jared.”

“Aw, you should ditch the moose,” Vicki giggles, and Misha’s cheeks heat.

“Vik, stop, okay?  Jensen is-”

“If you tell me he's straight one more time, Mish-”

“He is!” Misha insists.  “Or at least so far closeted it'll take a team of NASA scientists to get him out.”

“But that's half the fun!”

“Vicki, I'm not going to seduce Jensen Ackles.” 

“I have eyes Mish, there's no way what you two have is platonic.”

“You should be convincing me to get over him, not encouraging me to make a move,” Misha groans, pushing himself to his feet.

“It's like you don't even know me,” she scoffs in offense.

“I'll talk to you later.”  Misha hangs up before she can protest, tucking his phone in his pocket as he walks to his bedroom to freshen up.

A quick shower and a change of clothes makes Misha feel a bit better, and as he waits for a message from Jared or Jensen he attempts to catch up on some emails.  It's tedious, but the updates from his charity about what his hard work is doing in the world make it all worthwhile.  He's made it through about twenty when his phone finally buzzes.

 

_ Jared: Hey man I’m outside. _

_ You: Be right down. _

 

Misha grabs his wallet and keys off the counter, making sure his phone was still in his pocket, and quickly heads downstairs.  Jared’s car is waiting for him out front, but there's no one else in the car.

“Jensen meeting us there?” Misha asks as he climbs in the front seat.

“Yeah, he had to stop back at his apartment after shooting so I just told him to catch up,” Jared explains as he pulls away, turning onto the main road.  “Look, I know he wasn't supposed to, but Jensen told me what you guys talked about.  I'm so sorry.”  Misha shrugged off the concern in Jared’s voice.

“I mean, I was only supposed to be in four episodes, I'm lucky to have gotten what I got.”

“Yeah, but to bring you back for a week and a half of filming after the entire summer break...it's like salting the wound.”

“I’ll manage.  Gives me more time to catch up with the family and everything.”

They talk a little about Misha’s parents, and Jared gushes about the trip he's planning on taking with Gen’s family to Idaho once filming is done.  They laugh a bit about how awkward the summer conventions will be, knowing what they know about Misha’s character, and by the time they arrive at the restaurant Misha is feeling better.  It's a local sandwich place, nothing too fancy, and it's probably because of that they've never been recognized here.  Jensen waves at them from a table as they enter, and Jared and Misha make their way to him.

Dinner is filled with easy talk, stories, philosophical debate, and surprisingly too many beers on Jensen’s part.  He didn't usually drink much when they were out in public without their network provided drivers, but tonight he seemed to have forgotten he'd driven himself there.  Jared noticed, raising his eyebrows at Misha, but Misha simply shrugged.

Their food is long finished, and as Jensen finishes his current beer, Jared seizes the opportunity before Jensen can order another one.

“I better get going,” he announces, and Jensen sets his empty glass down on the table loudly.

“Alright, Imma pee.” Jensen pushes to his feet and with only a slight wobble on his bow legs he makes his way to the bathroom.

“Dude, what the hell?” Jared wonders once he’s out of earshot.

“I don't know,” Misha shrugs, “he seems more upset about me leaving than I am.”  He says it as a joke but a tiny part of him wishes it’s true.

“Right?” Jared chuckles.  When the waiter brings their check, Jared grabs the billfold before Misha can, waving away Misha’s attempt to pay for his portion.  “Just make sure Jensen gets home okay, that's your payment,” Jared insists.  Jensen returns from the bathroom, and between them Misha and Jared manage to get Jensen’s car keys into Misha’s hands.  They walk out to the parking lot, Jared wrapping them each in a brief hug, thumping Misha on the back hard enough to bruise before climbing into his car and driving away.

“Alright, Jensen, let's get you home,” Misha sighs.  

“Well, I'd say buy me a drink first but Jared beat you to it,” Jensen hummed, wiggling his brows at Misha.

“Didn't know you were that easy,” Misha rolled his eyes, unlocking Jensen's car as they walked towards it.  

“Hey, for you I'll make an exception.”  Jensen slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling Misha close against him and nearly knocking them both over.  Misha was used to this, Jensen got flirty when he was drunk, and downright handsy when he was wasted.  Jared had three years of practice deflecting it, but Misha was not so fortunate, and usually wound up with arms (or a lap) full of a 6’1” giggly Texan.  

He wanted to say he hated it, that it was annoying and he wanted it to stop.

Honestly, he didn't.  Jensen would get drunk and Misha could, briefly, pretend like Jensen actually meant it.

At least tonight Jensen was only mildly tipsy, just enough he needed Misha to drive him home, but not enough that his hands wandered to Misha during the car ride to his apartment.  He even seemed perfectly capable of navigating the stairs, and Misha was starting to wonder if he was really  _ that  _ drunk.

They walk into the living room, Misha dropping Jensen’s keys in the bowl by the front door, pulling out his phone to call a taxi.

“Hey, stick around for a bit?  Watch something?” Jensen asks, gesturing at his entertainment system.

“I've got an early call tomorrow,” Misha points out.  Jensen’s cheeks were slightly rosy, his inhibitions were down, and Misha didn't trust himself.

“C’mon, Mish.  Have a beer, stay with me for a bit,” Jensen insists again, wrapping a hand around Misha’s bicep...and leaving it there.  Misha attempts to ignore the warmth from Jensen’s palm.

“One beer,” he sighs.  Jensen grins, those beautiful laugh lines lighting up his face as he bounces off to the kitchen, Misha following behind at a much more reserved pace.  Apparently one ‘beer’ meant a tumbler of bourbon for each of them, Jensen pouring out the drinks and handing Misha his.

“So, do you ever get angry?” Jensen asks, taking a sip from his glass.

“Every time I do a scene with you and Jared,” Misha quips, taking a sip of his drink and leaning on Jensen’s counter.  Jensen snorts a laugh and leans on the counter next to him, almost close enough to touch.   _ Whole damn kitchen and he has to stand right here. _

“We are pretty awful to you, aren't we?”  Jensen’s words sound surprisingly sincere, and Misha swirls the liquid in his cup self consciously.  “I meant  _ really  _ angry.  Punch a hole in the wall, shouting at people angry.”

“Of course I do,” Misha shrugs.  “Everyone does.”

“So why aren't you pissed right now?”  Misha knows he's referring to his being fired, and he sips at his bourbon while he thinks.  

“Maybe because I'd rather spend that energy working with my charity, or on a new project.”  Misha smiles when the list of potential ideas that Vicki had been working on with him comes to mind.

“That's very zen and mature of you, Misha.”  

“Told you to try yoga, it really helps.”

“Not gonna happen,” Jensen grunts, downing the rest of his bourbon and setting the glass on the counter behind him.  Jensen’s shoulders stiffen, and Misha watches and waits as he works through what he wants to say.  “Do you  _ want _ to leave?” Jensen asks quietly, eyes focused on the floor.  

“Of course I don't,” Misha sighs.  “This job has been amazing.”

“Just the job?” Jensen teases, leaning into Misha’s side.  

“Jared’s a pretty solid dude, but I'm not sure about this Ackles guy,” Misha plays along.  The warm line of Jensen’s body is hard to resist, so he leans into Jensen’s weight as well.

“Yeah, I hear that guy’s a real dick,” Jensen huffs.

“Total tool.  Thinks he's owed the universe or some shit just because he's pretty.”  Jensen laughs hard, leaning heavily into Misha’s space and Misha is forced to wrap an arm around him to keep upright.  He sets his glass down to avoid dropping it, and to hopefully keep Jensen from noticing his hand shaking as Jensen fucking  _ nuzzles  _ into his neck.

“Sorry I'm such an ass sometimes,” Jensen sighs, his exhale warm across Misha’s collar bone.  “Maybe if I hadn't fucked with you so much they wouldn't be firing you.”

“Well, I'm sure it didn't help,” Misha laughs.  Jensen shifts, and suddenly his arms are around Misha’s waist in a hug that's almost certainly less  _ bro _ than Jensen intends it to be, but Misha’s nose is buried in Jensen’s hair, and he can't bring himself to push him away.  

It would be so easy to kiss Jensen right now.  Just shifting his chin slightly, a gentle nudge, and he could do it.

But Jensen’s drunk, and he doesn't really want Misha, so he resists.

“Want another drink?” Jensen mumbles into his shoulder.

“No, I want you to go to bed so I can call a taxi home,” Misha grunts, pushing on Jensen till he lets Misha go.

“I'm not that kind of guy,” Jensen chuckles as he stumbles towards his bedroom.  Misha follows along as far as the bedroom door, waiting in the hallway to make sure he doesn't hear Jensen fall over.  When it seems that Jensen’s motor functions are working, Misha calls for a taxi pickup.  

“I'm gonna head downstairs to wait for my driver,” Misha calls through the door.

“Hey, Mish,” Jensen calls from the bedroom before stepping into view with no shirt on and in the process of pulling on a pair of basketball shorts.  Misha groans inwardly.   _ Fuck you, Ackles, and your fucking lack of human decency.   _ “You can stay here if you want, I can drop you at your apartment tomorrow before work to get your car.”  It's tempting, but not in a good way.

“I'm fine, Jensen.  Sleep it off,” Misha waves away his offer.

“I don't want you to go, you know,” Jensen adds.  “My life's been better since you showed up, I don't wanna go back.”  Misha takes note that Jensen said ‘my life’ and didn't mention the show before furiously scratching out that note.  It was just the alcohol talking after all.

“Thank you, but sadly neither of us have a say,” Misha shrugs.  “Now get to bed before I tell Jared what a sap you've been all night.”

“Mish…” Jensen reaches out, his hand wrapping around the back of Misha’s neck like he's about to pull him in for a kiss.

Misha can't breathe.  He's just staring into Jensen’s stupidly green eyes and wondering why the fuck alcohol made him so damn  _ touchy feely. _

Three heartbeats pass before Jensen’s hand falls limply to his side.

“Goodnight, Jensen,” Misha sighs, turning on his heel and walking to the door before he does something incredibly stupid.

Like kiss Jensen freaking Ackles.


	2. 2. Tell Me What I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shakes himself out and nods at the camera. Bob tiredly calls “Action.”  
> “I'm your new God. A better one,” Misha raises his eyes again, not even bothering to try and avoid finding Jensen’s. This time when he speaks it's a command, and it makes every other time he said the line feel like a polite request. “So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.” Jensen’s eyes go wide as he swallows visibly, and this time he's the first one to drop his eyes.  
> No one laughs this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A/N: Hey look, an update! XD Again, brief reminder this isn't necessarily keeping true to character for these guys IRL, this is my own spin on things.*

**_March 25th, 2011_ **

 

Misha groggily makes his way from the wardrobe trailer back to his own, his clothes for the day’s shooting draped over his shoulder and a cup of coffee in the other hand.  He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, between taking care of Jensen and finishing with his emails, and the poor makeup girls had quite a time covering up the circles under his eyes.  Running slightly late now, Misha closes and locks the door to his trailer behind him before he even realizes he's not alone, nearly jumping out of his skin when he turns and sees Jensen on the couch.

“ _ Shit,  _ Jensen!” he gasps, his heart lurching into his throat as he nearly spills the rest of his coffee.  “Are you  _ trying  _ to give me a heart attack?!”  He sets his cup down on the counter, the last thing he needs is to go back to wardrobe for another costume.

“Sorry,” Jensen says sheepishly over his own cup of coffee.

“The hell are you doing here?” Misha asks, tugging the trench coat and the suit jacket out of the garment bag.  He pretends not to notice the little heart the techs have been using for the ‘i’ in his name.  Jensen is already in his wardrobe, and the only reason he knows they’re not Jensen’s own clothes is the boots are definitely Dean’s.

“Just wanted to catch you before work today,” Jensen is watching Misha carefully, keeping his own face neutral.  “To, uh, apologize.”  Misha rolls his eyes as he toes off his shoes.

“You could have told me from set, instead of creeping on me in my trailer.”  Misha frowns at Jensen as he grabs his cup and chokes down the rest of his coffee.

“Sorry,” Jensen says quickly, pushing himself to his feet.  “Guess I'm still a little off after last night.”  Since he has his boots on, Jensen is almost a full 6” taller than Misha now, something Misha definitely notices as Jensen walks towards him.

“It wasn't the first time you got clingy drunk,” Misha laughs, wondering why he suddenly feels so nervous as Jensen’s eyes pin him in place.  “I'm sure it won't be the last.”

“Yeah, but we were in public last night, I'm usually better than that,” Jensen mumbles.  He's walked so close he's practically in Misha’s space, though the door was right there, maybe he was just trying to leave…

“True, but all the groping happened once we got to your place,” Misha jokes, attempting to move out of Jensen’s way.  Jensen doesn't go for the door, and now Misha is practically pinned against the wall of his trailer, close enough he can smell the hairspray used on Jensen’s hair.  Misha keeps rambling on out of nerves.  “Plus it's not like anything else might have happened.  Neither of us are, you know, interested.”  He chuckles to mask his lie.

“Right,” Jensen says quickly, “right, yeah, of course.”  He still doesn't move, and his eyes dart down to Misha's lips.

Okay, Misha  _ has  _ to be hallucinating.

Jensen is  _ straight. _

He doesn't want to kiss Misha right now, he's probably feeling awkward with how close Misha is standing, and Misha’s breath probably smells awful, like bitter coffee.  In fact he probably wasn't looking at Misha’s lips at all, there was probably food stuck in his teeth or something-

Jensen’s hand is on his cheek, cupping the right side of his jaw, and Misha’s brain screeches to a halt.

“Jen- Jensen, what-?”  He finally breaks out of his panic and pays attention to Jensen’s face; he's disappointed, almost, and a little hurt.

“Gonna miss having you around,” Jensen says quietly, his hand still warm against his skin.

“Gonna miss being around,” Misha agrees, licking his suddenly dry lips.  Jensen drops his eyes, pats Misha’s cheek a little and turns away, leaving Misha's trailer without another word.

Misha slides to the ground with an undignified whimper and an ache somewhere behind his ribs.

What the  _ fuck  _ was going on with Jensen?!  Did he...he couldn’t possibly  _ know _ , could he?  And if he did, was he really that much of a dick that he'd treat Misha this way, stringing him along all for a good laugh later on?

A PA knocks on Misha’s door, announcing he was needed on set in ten minutes, and Misha scrambles to get changed into his wardrobe.  Whatever was going on would have to wait until after filming.

 

The Godstiel moment was awesome on paper, but it was the part of this episode Misha was dreading the most.  If Misha had a bigger ego, this would have been a bit more difficult, as it was, he was able to flow with the joke that this scene wouldn't take much acting for him, because he'd just be playing himself.  Sure his Twitter followers called themselves his ‘minions’ but he didn't  _ really  _ take it that seriously.

Jim and Jensen are on set when he arrives, already walking through blocking for their coverage.  Misha scrambles to get into place, making an apologetic face at the crew.  

“‘Bout time you decided to show up,” Jim mumbled quietly, winking at Misha.

“Takes time to cover up beauty this bright,” Misha jokes, earning a few snorts from the crew who heard him.  Jensen doesn't even react.

Bob Singer, this week’s director, walks Jensen and Jim through what he's expecting.  Lucky for Misha all he has to do is stand still for most of the beginning of this, the camera shooting past his arm or shoulder for the others’ reactions.  They take a few passes, and it becomes obvious fairly quickly that the mood on set is pretty sober today.  Jensen isn't cutting up like normal, and Jim isn't one to instigate, so with Jared missing, it was fairly smooth shooting until lunch.  

Misha eats with Jim, talking about his daughter and other projects Jim has worked on.  Jensen is nowhere to be found until after lunch is over and they’re back on set.  Misha catches a glimpse of Jim and Jensen having a brief conversation, but he can't hear what it's about.  Jensen has yet to make eye contact with him outside of when the cameras are rolling, and even then the discomfort and nerves on ‘Dean’s’ face seem to be genuine.  It's not like Jensen to let anything slip through into his acting, and Misha’s starting to get worried about him.  

It’s finally time for Misha’s big close up, Jensen and Jim watching from the wings in case they were needed for any last minute pick-up shots.  For some reason having them there watching was making Misha extra nervous.  It was like he could feel Jensen’s eyes tracking him, but whenever he'd look over Jensen was looking somewhere else.

Bob walks Misha through his coverage, filming the final line of the episode as the final scene for the day.  It was the line Misha had been looking forward to the least.

“Action!”

“I'm your new God.  A better one.  So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord.  Or I shall destroy you.”  The words hang in the air for a brief moment, the camera shooting basically up his nose, then most everyone in the room bursts out laughing, including Misha.  A couple more takes go exactly the same way, which earns everyone a scolding from the director.

“I’m sorry, Bob, I’m trying here,” Misha huffs, running his hand through his hair and then bending to let the hair girl fix it.

“Maybe just a bit more arrogance, okay Misha?” Bob suggests.

“Yeah, okay,” Misha nods, squaring his shoulders and dropping his head, trying to remind himself he's an actor.  The cameras set, and Misha waits patiently as the crew settles.

“Action!”

Misha tilts his head down just slightly, trying to come off as cocky without smiling as he delivers his lines.  He meets Jensen’s eyes as he looks over the camera, and he knows he loses his inflection at the end of his last line because of the way Jensen is looking at him...almost like…

“Still rolling, reset,” Bob calls.  Misha drops his head and breathes, making a last minute decision, and hoping to all that was holy he didn't get laughed off the set for it.  After all it was just a game he used to play with Vicki, and a few other sexual partners they sometimes liaised with, it wasn't a part of himself he tapped into often and  _ definitely  _ not in front of this many people.

With one last deep breath, he flips a metaphorical switch in his mind...and  _ boy  _ does he suddenly feel the difference as his ‘Dom’ persona comes to the surface.  He shifts his stance, pulls his shoulders straighter, and the surge of confidence makes him smirk.

He shakes himself out and nods at the camera.  Bob tiredly calls “Action.”

“I'm your new God.  A better one,” Misha raises his eyes again, not even bothering to try and avoid finding Jensen’s.  This time when he speaks it's a  _ command _ , and it makes every other time he said the line feel like a polite request.  “So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord.  Or I shall destroy you.”  Jensen’s eyes go wide as he swallows visibly, and this time he's the first one to drop his eyes.

No one laughs this time.

“Cut!”  The crew pauses before descending into their normal flurry of activity, and the mood in the room has shifted somewhat, become slightly more subdued.  “Okay, that was good Misha,” Bob calls from his director’s chair, surprise in the tone of his voice.  “Let's get a few more takes of that and I think we’re good to go!”

Misha does three more identical takes, the only difference being Jensen refuses to meet his eyes, even though Misha knows Jensen can feel his gaze on him.

When the final ‘cut’ is called applause erupts from the stage and everyone comes in to shake hands and pass on congratulations to each other for finishing the season.  Misha catches sight of Jensen quickly slipping off set as soon as Bob finishes shaking his hand, and Misha takes off after him as fast as he can.  He’s not sure why he follows him, maybe the lingering confidence from the scene is spurring him on, or maybe it’s simply curiosity.  Whatever the reason, he bursts from the soundstage to see Jensen’s retreating back bee lining it for his trailer.

“Jensen, wait!” he calls, but it only seems to spur Jensen on faster, and Misha breaks out into a jog to catch him.  Jensen is unlocking the door to his trailer when Misha comes around the corner and he barely slips past the closing door before Jensen shuts it behind them.

“Misha, what the fuck-”

“What's going on with you today?” Misha demands without preamble.

“Nothing,” Jensen grunts, shrugging out of Dean’s top layers down to his tee shirt, his back to Misha.

“Don't lie to me,” Misha snaps.  “I know you like to think you're all mysterious, but I know you a bit too well for that.”

“Even if there is something bothering me,” Jensen spits, leaning his hands on the counter in front of him, still not facing Misha, “why the fuck is it your problem to fix?”  Remembering the look on Jensen’s face the first time he used his (God help him) ‘Dom’ voice, Misha goes for broke.

“Tell me what is going on.  Now.”  The command rumbles out of his chest, almost deep enough to be in his Cas range.  Misha watches in disbelief as Jensen nearly crumbles against the small counter separating his kitchenette from the living area, his knees buckling as a small noise escapes him.

“I can't,” Jensen gasps, all the fight gone from his voice.  “I can't because I-I’m not...”  Misha walks up behind Jensen, leaving decent space between them but close enough to reach out and rest a hand against his shoulder blade.  The muscles beneath his fingers are pulled taut, Misha can see it through the thin fabric; Jensen is about to snap.

“Jensen…”

“Misha,” he pleads, and it sends a shiver through Misha’s whole body.  The way Jensen said his name… in  _ that _ tone of voice.  Misha hesitates, not sure if he should  _ act  _ on it, because there’s always the chance he’s misreading Jensen’s intent.  To test Jensen’s reaction, Misha digs his fingers into the meat of Jensen’s shoulder, and Jensen leans into the touch with a sigh.   _ Holy shit.   _ Slowly, Misha moves closer, running his hand down Jensen’s spine to rest on his hip, and Jensen shudders.   _ This...is this really...happening?! _

“Tell me how to help you,” Misha urges him gently.  Jensen drops his head, his breathing harsh in the still trailer.  He seems like he’s about to say something, but doesn't get any words out on the first two tries.  Misha waits.

“Want you...,” he gasps out on the third.

Jensen finally turns towards him, face flushed and his lip chewed raw by nerves.  Misha’s hand is still on his hip, mostly because Misha doesn't want to move and risk breaking the moment.  Jensen meets Misha’s eyes briefly before they dart away again, and Misha realizes he's never seen Jensen so scared and vulnerable.  He wasn’t poking fun at Misha, wasn’t joking or pranking him, he was serious.  

Misha opens his arms in a silent invitation and Jensen collapses into them, tugging him close with desperate fingers.  Misha is flabbergasted, but he wraps his arms around Jensen and holds him anyway.  He was not expecting his usually self assured and strong best friend, the one that usually comforts  _ him _ , to be clinging to Misha like this.  Jensen tucks himself in closer, breathing deep, and his groin presses against Misha’s hip.

_ Holy fuck he's hard. _

Misha is just barely keeping himself from launching into an all out panic.  Jensen was aroused, but it couldn't be because of him...could it?  Could his weird behavior be explained by a gay freak out?  It made more sense than anything else in Misha’s head at least, so he decided to run with it.  Maybe if he helped Jensen with this, just this once, things could get back to normal.  Or probably be fucked up forever, but Jensen’s boner against his hip was making his brain short circuit.

Jensen’s trailer was larger than Misha’s, with enough room for a bed, and with Jensen looking like he was about to drop at any moment Misha needed to walk him over there before he'd have to carry him over.

“Jensen, come sit on the bed,” Misha says gently, trying to pull away.  Jensen wraps his arms around Misha tighter, nosing at the base of his neck.  He tries again.  “Bed.  Now.”  Jensen shivers then releases him, walking over to the full size mattress and dropping to sit, his eyes downcast as he adjusts his jeans.  Misha’s lower half is responding in kind, but he's ignoring it completely.

It's surreal watching Jensen react like this.  Even when he'd played at this with Vicki, she never truly submitted, there was always a push and pull between them.  Jensen is actually submitting, which is not only bizarre by itself,  _ especially _ since it’s so sudden, but also strange because it's with  _ Misha _ .  He should be celebrating this moment, since he’s finally acting on his stupid crush, but one look at Jensen quashes that feeling.  

He wants  _ all _ of Jensen, not just this.  Not a confused, physically driven breakdown when faced with Misha’s departure.  Not an experiment he'll drink himself silly to forget.  He wants Jensen to care, and he knows he doesn't.

But he can help Jensen through this, his own feelings be damned.  He locks the trailer door and makes sure all the shades are pulled shut before making his way to the bed.  He stands in front of Jensen in the dim light, reaching out and pushing his fingers into Jensen’s hair, ignoring the hair product that tugs at his skin.  Jensen leans into his touch, his eyes tightly shut and his cheeks still flushed.

“Use your words.  What do you want me to do?”  Misha waits, anticipation building as Jensen swallows visibly.

“I-I want you t-to touch me.”  Jensen stumbles over his words, but he gets them out.  Misha runs his other hand over Jensen’s chin, both his hands trailing down his neck and shoulders, over his chest, till he reaches his waist.   _ God  _ he’s so fucking perfect, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower Misha has to take this as slow as Jensen needs it.

“I'm going to take this off,” Misha says calmly, tugging at the hem of Jensen’s shirt.  Jensen sets his jaw and lifts his arms without any protest.  Misha slides Jensen’s black tee over his head, sucking in a sharp breath as his torso becomes visible.  It wasn't the first time Misha has seen Jensen without a shirt on, the slightly out of shape looseness to his muscles made all the more beautiful in the way it humanized him.  Jensen may seem perfect, but he was flawed just like everyone else.

Like Misha, for example.

Jensen is still obviously nervous, avoiding looking at Misha altogether, so Misha strips out of his Cas button up and kicks off his shoes, nothing but his slacks on.  He bends to kneel in front of Jensen, tugging Dean’s boots off Jensen’s feet and tossing them aside.  Slowly, his hands make their way up the outside of Jensen’s legs, those stupidly wonderful bowed legs, coming to rest on the waistband of his jeans.  Worried about freaking Jensen out if he does it himself, Misha simply leans into his space and gives another quiet command.

“Take these off.”  Jensen nods and Misha stands, unable to look away as Jensen quickly strips out of his jeans.  Misha couldn't stop his eyes from tracing the bulge in Jensen’s boxer briefs, one that matched the tent in his pants, but he forces himself to turn away, climbing into the bed behind Jensen and sitting with his back pressed against the headboard.  “Come here.” Misha holds his arms open as Jensen slides across the mattress wordlessly, and it crosses his mind that Misha  _ really  _ didn't need to get used to being obeyed.  He positions Jensen in his lap, back to Misha, his legs on either side of Jensen’s hips, and he starts to massage Jensen’s shoulders.  This was a little more familiar, he'd given Jensen a massage before, granted not while they were both shirtless and Jensen’s hips were dangerously close to his hard dick.  Okay maybe the only familiar thing about this was the massage but Misha was clinging to anything at this point.

“Wait,” Jensen grunts, and Misha freezes.  Jensen leans over, fumbling in the small set of drawers built into the side of the bed, and when he sits back up he hands Misha a small bottle of generic lotion.  

“Thank you,” Misha says quietly, brushing Jensen’s fingers as he takes the bottle.  Jensen is flushed from his shoulders up, and turns away quickly, but Misha can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips.  The lotion helps ease the passage of his fingers, and from his waist up to his shoulder blades Misha works at the knots in Jensen’s back until they’ve all relaxed.  Misha slides his hands around to Jensen’s chest, pulling him closer until Jensen’s back is pressed to Misha’s chest, their bodies flush together.  Jensen whimpers slightly at the same time Misha gasps, when Jensen’s hips come in contact with Misha’s boner.  As Misha is freezing in worry, Jensen’s back arches, bringing them closer.

“Please,” he begs.

“Don't want to push you too far,” Misha breathes, his chin resting on Jensen’s shoulder with his nose pressed into his neck.  Jensen reaches up and takes Misha’s hand, dragging it down his body until it comes to rest against…

“Please,” Jensen asks again, the ridge of flesh twitching under Misha’s fingers.  Misha cups Jensen through the thin cotton fabric, and Jensen sighs heavily as his body goes lax, like he'd been holding his breath up until that moment.  Emboldened by this, Misha watches over Jensen’s shoulder as his fingers explore the hard line of Jensen’s cock, the muscles in his abdomen bunching and relaxing as Misha touches him.  Jensen’s breath is hot against Misha’s collar as he tucks his forehead into Misha’s neck, a soft moan rumbling up through his chest as Misha slips his fingers through the flap in his boxer briefs, gently tugging Jensen out into open air.

_ Of course the rumors were true,  _ Misha groans inwardly.  Jensen was definitely above average, hot and heavy in Misha’s hand.  Misha quickly spread another glob of lotion on his palm and wrapped his fingers around Jensen, stroking him steadily with a twist to his wrist at the end.  Breathy little gasps from both of them were the only noise in the trailer, along with the obscene wet slide of Misha’s fist.  His left hand was pressed firmly against Jensen’s stomach, holding him close as he felt Jensen tensing.  

“Come for me,” Misha gasped, and the muscles under Misha’s hand spasmed as Jensen came on a soft shout, come splashing across his stomach and both of Misha’s hands.  It’s an image Misha shamefully store away for those lonely nights alone in his apartment.  Nothing else was ever going to get him going like this anymore.  Once Jensen’s breathing evens out, Misha reluctantly slips out from behind him, careful not to touch his wardrobe with his hands.  Jensen collapses back onto the pillows with a satisfied sigh as Misha scurries into the bathroom, rinsing his hands off before tugging his pants down to his ankles.  An impressive wet spot had formed on his briefs, dark against the rest of the orange fabric, and Misha whimpers, shoving his hand beneath the waistband and calling up that image of Jensen, finishing himself off in a matter of seconds.  Cleaning up as best he could and fastening his pants, he grabs some toilet paper and walks out to wipe Jensen off as well.  The Texan is already asleep, and Misha manages to wipe up his mess without waking him.  He tosses the tissue and watches Jensen sleep for a moment as reality settles back in.

_ What the fuck do I do now?  _ he wonders, tugging his clothes back on and picking up Jensen’s wardrobe, piling it neatly on one of the chairs before covering Jensen with a blanket.  Peeking out the window to make sure no one is around, he slips out of Jensen’s trailer, sneaking through the back of the lot till he gets to his own.

Normally the first thing he'd do would be to call Vicki.  He had her contact info up and his thumb hovering over the button before he even thought about it. 

This...this feels different, in more ways than Misha can wrap his head around, but mostly because he knows it isn't happening again.  Jensen was simply horny, with nowhere else to turn.  He probably  _ knew  _ Misha had a crush on him and would willingly help him without asking questions.  Probably thought he was doing Misha a favor.  The idea twists something in his gut and he feels like he's going to be sick.

He doesn't call Vicki.  He doesn't speak to the wardrobe girls when they ask about his summer plans.  Doesn't respond when Jared calls out to him from across the lot as he climbs into his car.  He mindlessly drives home and starts to pack up his temporary apartment, and only speaks just enough to make arrangements for his belongings to be picked up tomorrow and shipped back to his apartment in Washington.  He gets an email from the studio execs inviting him to the wrap party but he doesn't reply.  No one will miss him if he's not there, so he's going to just drive home.

It's only later that night, when he's struggling to fall asleep alone in his bed, that he realizes he didn't leave Jensen a note.

  
  


 

The last box of Misha’s personal belongings is carried away around noon, and Misha has ignored every phone call he's received all morning except for the movers.  Vicki had tried him a few times, as had Jared and his agent, and maybe a few other people, he’d stopped checking.  The apartment came furnished, so at least there's still a couch in the living room for him to sulk on, which he does like a pro.

He feels like a complete asshole, and he deserves to feel that way.  In the clarity of morning, he realized just how much trust Jensen had placed in him last night, and how badly he'd betrayed that trust.  After what was probably Jensen’s first liaison with a guy, Misha had disappeared without a trace, leaving him to deal with that panic alone when he woke up.  Even if Jensen didn't freak out, they still should have talked about what had happened.  Misha’s only chance at even attempting to try and navigate something real with Jensen had been dashed the moment he'd walked out of his trailer.

His phone buzzes with a text this time.

 

_ Jared: Are you coming tonight?  Want me to pick you up? _

 

Misha considers not answering, but he doesn't want Jared to just show up later.

 

_ You: I’m going to head home to Washington.  Feeling too bummed. _

_ Jared: aw that sucks man...I get it though. _

_ Jared: have a safe trip, see you in Rome. _

 

Misha had almost completely forgotten about the convention they were attending in Italy in two weeks.  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Misha pushes himself to his feet and grabs his laptop bag, turning away from what had been his home away from home for almost two years.

 

Two hours later he's pulling into his Washington apartment, the movers had unloaded his belongings into their respective rooms, and he navigated the maze of boxes to his living room, dropping onto his own couch and settling into the perfect wedge he'd created after a few years of resting in the same place.  He loved this couch, the first piece of furniture he’d bought himself with his first Supernatural paycheck.  He returns his agent’s calls, and says no to every ‘project’ they had to offer.  

His builder had mailed a package to his apartment, and he opened that next, scanning through the photos and other info he’d sent.  Misha was proud of the house he’d built, investing every bit of spare money he had in it.  Most of the woodwork in the house was his, but the actual staining, painting, and installation was being done by a friend of his, Ryan.  Ryan owned a contracting company, and Misha trusted him to do exactly what Misha wanted, not what he ‘thought’ should be done.  They were just about ready to start installing the kitchen cabinets Misha had built himself.  He calls Ryan and chats with him for a bit, satisfied his kitchen was in good hands.

Misha settles back into his couch, enjoying the quiet for a few hours, until his phone buzzes with a text later that night.

 

_ Jared: Missing you at the party tonight. _

 

Attached is a selfie of him, Mark Sheppard, and a disgruntled looking Jensen.  He’s frowning at the camera, not really angry just sort of...put out.

 

_ You: Doesn’t look like you all miss me, lol. _

 

After a few moments he gets a text back from Jared.

 

_ Jared: Yeah, I don’t know what climbed up Jackles’ ass.   _

_ Jared: He’s been grumpy all day. _

_ Jared: Prolly needs a good lay. _

_ You: Yeah, I’ll get right on that. _

 

Misha hits send before he realizes he probably shouldn’t.  He flushes scarlet and holds his breath as he waits for Jared’s response.

 

_ Jared: lolol don’t know how much help you’d be.  I’ll let him know you offered ;) _

 

Misha tosses his phone across the couch and buries his face in a pillow. 

He was suddenly not looking forward to Rome.


	3. 3. When in Rome...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misha hadn't really remembered the kiss. It happened so quickly he thought he'd imagined it, had made it up in his head because his heart was pounding and Jensen was right there. Now it's all he can think about, the feel of Jensen’s lips, his gentle touch, and how much he'd expected it to happen again when they'd arrived in his room. Granted, the anticipation was probably part of Jensen’s game, and Misha can't help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: It's JIB, it's Jenmish... ya'll know what's about to go down. ;) Here's your NSFW warning anyway...
> 
> **EDITED AS OF 5/15-- Made some drastic changes to this chapter to line up with what's coming later, and will hopefully be posting an update soon!**

**_April 8th, 2011_ **

 

“I’ve been an utter asshole,” Misha reflected over a glass of wine, watching the sunset through his hotel room window.  

“But you’re an adorable asshole,” Darius chimes in.  Misha throws the wine cork at him and Darius bats it away easily.  His best friend of 26 years had shown up at Misha’s apartment with a plane ticket and a suitcase three days before he planned on flying to Italy, claiming that Misha needed to unwind before he hurt himself.  Misha hadn’t really known what he meant until they were in standing in front of the Trevi Fountain taking silly pictures, and realized what a crappy mood he’d been in since leaving Vancouver. Wandering through Italy, being tourists, taking in both the natural beauty and the history had made Misha feel very small, and strangely enough it had helped get him back to himself again.  “Wait, why have you been an asshole this time?” Darius asks. 

“Shut up, you know I’ve been horrible to basically everyone since I got fired.”  He doesn’t mention Jensen specifically because he’s yet to tell  _ anyone  _ about that night.  “I’ve barely talked to Vicki, or Sasha...the only reason you’re here is you forced yourself on me.”

“You’re making me sound so awful,” Darius scoffs, checking his watch.  He was leaving today, and Misha wasn’t ready for their little vacation bubble to pop but there was nothing he could do.  Darius had his own projects to get back to, and the fact that he’d come with Misha at all had been a gift he’d never expected.

“What’s it gonna take to get you to see sense and give up on me?” Misha asks.  He’s not entirely kidding, and he knows Darius hears that in his voice. 

“Well at this point I’m too lazy to divorce you, and Vicki doesn’t want to lose favor with your mom with your mom, so I think you’re alright.”  Misha grins, finishing his wine and setting the glass on the table.

“When does your flight leave again?”

“Too soon,” Darius groans, finishing his wine and stretching.  “I’ve got to go meet my driver, I told him to be here about now.”  Darius pushes himself to his feet, walking the short distance to his shoes and bending to pull them on.

“Ooh, now I’m torn which view to look at, the city or you.”

“Har, har.  You know you’d rather stare at my ass.”  The innuendo is so second nature for the two of them Misha doesn’t usually think twice about it, but now that he and Jensen have... Misha doesn’t even realize Darius has walked up behind him until his hands fall heavy on Misha’s shoulders.  “You sure you’re okay? Seriously Misha, you’re starting to worry me.”

“I will be,” Misha insists.  “For the next two days I’ll be basking in the adoration of my fans, if that doesn’t cheer me up  _ then _ you can worry.”  Darius rolls his eyes affectionately as his phone pings with an alert.

“Okay, the driver’s downstairs.”  Darius walks away to gather up his suitcase and Misha follows him to the door, propping it open with his foot.  Misha pulls his best friend in for a hug and Darius plants an aggravating kiss on Misha’s forehead as he pulls away.

“Let me know when you land,” Misha insists.

“Even if it’s the middle of the night?”

“I didn’t say I’d answer.”  Darius chuckles and turns for the elevators.  Misha notices someone walking towards his room from the same direction wearing a hat and trying not to draw attention to himself.  It doesn’t fool Misha, he immediately recognizes those bow legs and the strut that comes with them. His heart leaps into his throat as Jensen turns and looks over his shoulder once Darius is past him, watching Darius turn the corner for the elevators.  When he looks back towards Misha, his face is unreadable, an edge of something in his eyes as he steps up to Misha’s door. “Hey, Jensen,” Misha greets him quietly.

“Misha.”  Jensen nods towards the room, a slight tilt of his chin, and Misha steps back to allow Jensen inside.  Suddenly aware of the empty wine bottles and the discarded food containers littered around on the tables and the floor, Misha is both mortified and impressed at how much of a mess he and Darius made.  He grabs a plastic bag and moves around the room, attempting a hasty clean up while Jensen makes his way through the mess towards the chairs.

“Sorry,” Misha’s not sure why he’s apologizing but he does it anyway, “it’s just been me and Darius for a couple days, we’re a bit of a mess.”  Jensen looks up at Misha suddenly, pausing in his journey to the chair.

“That was Darius?  Your best friend, Darius?”  Misha blinks at Jensen’s weird urgency.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t know you were coming or I’d have introduced you,” Misha apologizes.   _ Again. _

“No, it's fine.  I didn't know I was coming,” Jensen visibly relaxes, dropping into the chair Darius had vacated.  It's quiet for a moment as Misha continues to clean, the silence between them new and unwelcome. Misha knows he should just crack a joke about it, dismiss that night like it was nothing special, but it doesn't feel fair to reduce it to that.  Misha finished filling the one trash bag, and ties it off before grabbing another. For a few minutes the only noise is the clink of the wine bottles as Misha bags them up, and he can't breathe under the weight of Jensen’s stare, so he swallows and forces himself to speak.

“Look, I’m sorry-”

“Hey, listen-”

They both start talking at once, and then subsequently start to chuckle.  

“You go first,” Jensen insists.  

“I'm sorry I left you like that,” Misha admits as he drops the first couple wine bottles in the new trash bag.  “It was a stereotypical douche move.” He doesn’t clarify what he’s talking about, and realizes he doesn’t need to when Jensen clears his throat and shifts in the chair.

“I'm not upset about that.” Jensen shrugs, just the smallest bit of color in his cheeks.  “Can't really say I wouldn't have done the same,” he admits quietly. His hand moves absently up and down his thigh, a nervous tick Misha’s noticed on Jensen during panels.  He’s never done it while they were alone before. “Are we, you know, okay?”

“You mean still friends?”  Misha asks. “I’d like to be.  I'm sure what happened was just a fluke.”  He busies himself tying up the trash bag to avoid looking at Jensen while he says it, afraid his eyes will betray him.

“Right,” Jensen agrees hastily, “just a one time thing.”  Misha keeps his back to Jensen as he picks up the two large bags he's filled.  “You regret it, don't you?” Jensen asks, something brittle in his voice that makes Misha feel like the floor fell out from underneath him.

“What?  No!” Misha answers quickly, nearly dropping the bag of bottles and shattering the glass inside as he spins to face Jensen.  “Look you know I'm bi, right?”  _ Smooth, Misha.  Way to just blurt that out. _

“Yeah, Mish,” Jensen huffs.  “I kinda figured that out.” Misha flushes crimson when Jensen’s eyes move up to his, and he drops his gaze to the front of Jensen’s shirt before turning away and walking across the hotel room.  Misha sets the bags by the door, shoving his hands in his pockets and wishing there was a hole he could climb into.

“I mean I don’t really hide my porn either, guess it’s not that surprising you figured me out.  So if you’re, like, freaking out or whatever, you’re not the first one to do that. I uh, I mean I’ve already had my, uh...”  Misha continues to babble, leaning on the wall by the door as he drops his eyes further to examine his feet, contemplating why he  _ always  _ manages to metaphorically shove them in his mouth.  This was  _ Jensen,  _ for fuck’s sake, he actually  _ meant  _ something to Misha and if Misha wasn't careful… Jensen’s question comes back to him, and again he’s speaking before he thinks.  “You, uh, do you? Regret it, I mean.”

“No,” Jensen answers, that weird brittleness back in his voice.  “I don’t regret it at all.” He stands up and walks over to Misha, who suddenly feels very small as Jensen crowds him against the wall.  Well, not really crowds him but he’s close enough to make Misha squirm all the same.

“Good, yeah,” Misha attempts to laugh.  He can feel Jensen’s eyes on him but he doesn’t look up, the coward that he is.   _ Great, awkward silence. _

“I'm uh, gonna go.  Got a busy day tomorrow,” Jensen finally says.

“Yep.  I've got the first panel,” Misha agrees.  Jensen steps back from his personal space and towards the door.

“So, I guess I'll see you?”

“Yeah, see you,” Misha nods at the carpet.  When his hotel room door closes Misha collapses against it, knocking his head against the hard surface a few times.  “I'm such a fucking moron,” he complains to himself. 

He knows he needs to actually talk to Jensen about what happened, not this half talking, half ignoring thing they were doing.  How did Jensen really feel about it? Was Jensen bi? Was he fishing for advice from Misha, just burning off some steam...or looking for something more?  Normally he'd have no problem talking to Jensen, hell, multiple times they'd broached topics most people would be fucking  _ afraid _ to.  That was the beauty of their friendship, and Misha was afraid they were losing it.

But Jensen had  _ wanted  _ him, wanted his touch and his comfort that night.  Misha just couldn't figure out  _ why _ .

After chasing ideas around his own head for hours that yielded nothing but a headache, Misha crawled into bed and eventually fell asleep.

 

The first day of Jus in Bello Con, or ‘JIB’, is hectic, but like he'd said to Darius, the moment he walked out on stage for that first panel the cheers and shouts from the crowd immediately made everything else go away.  He puts on his stage persona and smiles and teases the fans and everything is as it should be. It’s not like he’s a completely different person, but the persona gives him a buffer between his naturally awkward self and the audience, just that little boost of confidence that helps him handle whatever comes his way.  

By the end of his last autograph session that night Misha is exhausted, but he doesn’t turn down the invitation from the others to watch Jason’s concert.  Most everyone is there having a few drinks and hanging out, and Misha ends up spending most of the night with Rich and Rob, the concert setting bringing up Rob’s stories from his gigs with his band, Louden Swain.  Misha catches glimpses of Jensen throughout the night, but they never speak. In fact the closest they even come to one another is when Jared insists they get a group photo at the end of the night and Misha is only separated from Jensen by Sebastian and Rich.  As soon as the photo is over, Misha calls out a generic good night and flees the party. He can’t stand the way his chest constricts when Jensen is around now, in fact he’d rather have the butterflies back if it meant they could get back to normal.

“Hey, Misha!” Jared’s voice follows Misha down the hallway, and with a swish of hair he slips into the elevator with him.

“Jared, what is it?” Misha asks, too tired to turn him away.

“I wanna talk about Jensen.”  Misha nearly chokes but manages to keep his face impassive.

“What about him?” Misha shrugs.  Jared’s brow furrows as he considers the side of the elevator.

“He hasn’t really been himself for a few weeks.  Every time I try to talk to him about it he just brushes me off, it’s not like him.”  Jared follows Misha down to his room when the elevator stops at his floor. “I know the two of you are close, has he said anything?  Did something happen?” Misha has to bite his tongue to keep silent, letting the two of them into his room and flipping on the light.  

“He hasn’t said anything to me,” Misha says, tugging his jacket off his shoulders.  It’s not exactly a lie, which is probably why he gets away with it. “But yeah, something has been off lately,” he admits.

“I just wish he’d drop the machismo for one second, you know?” Jared sighs, running a hand through his hair.  “He’s always so desperate to keep up his image he doesn’t ever give anyone the chance to help him.” Misha busies himself hanging up his jacket to avoid Jared’s eyes.  What Jared doesn’t know is Jensen doesn’t act like that around Misha. When the two of them are alone, Jensen isn’t afraid to be open and honest even vulnerable at times, and Misha never realized he  _ wasn’t  _ like that with Jared.

“It’s just how he is,” Misha shrugs.  “Give him some time, he’ll come around.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jared sighs.  “Wanna watch something?” he asks, walking over to Misha’s minibar and pulling out the tiny bottles of alcohol.

“Only if you’re paying for that,” Misha huffs, catching a tiny vodka Jared tosses at him.  Jared smirks, but Misha knows he’s good for it. They watch random television for a couple hours, talking about nothing in particular as they drink.  By the time they’ve finished the alcohol Misha is pleasantly buzzed, laughing at Jared pretending to translate the Italian coming from the TV. A commercial for something comes on with a well built, very attractive man walking around in no shirt, and Misha hums in appreciation.

“Ticks your boxes?” Jared laughs.

“Course he does,” Misha huffs, waving his hand at the television.  “He’s fucking hot.”

“He looks fake though,” Jared scoffs, apparently rolling with Misha outing himself.  Jared’s frowning at the television. “You can tell half of that is makeup and editing.”

“True, but those eyes,” Misha slurs, sitting up to lean closer to the TV, “those are all his.”

“Maybe I should warn Jackles you have a thing for green eyes,” Jared giggles.

“Nah,” Misha shrugs.  “He knows.” 

“Should do something about it,” Jared mumbles, managing to push himself to his feet.  Misha isn’t sure if he’s talking about him or Jensen and at this point he’s too buzzed to care.  Jared turns off the TV and tosses the remote onto the bed he just vacated, the tiny bottles on the bedspread tinkling.  Jared turns for the door to the room, tugging his shoes on and almost falling over a few times. “Night, Misha,” he calls.

“Turn off the light,” Misha calls back.  Jared does, and Misha falls asleep immediately, clothes and all.

 

The second day of JIB was shaping up to be just as exhausting.  He’s paying for that alcohol now, he knows he’s a fair bit grumpier than he normally would be and Sebastian is taking full advantage of it.  Jensen shows up towards the end for his own panel and interrupts Misha and Sebastian to the delight of the audience. It doesn’t really help Misha’s mood improve, no matter how hard Jensen is trying.  Misha goes along with the flirting, like they usually do, and when Jensen finally comes up on stage, Misha just hands his mic over, in case something incriminating decides to slip out of his mouth, like  _ so you can’t talk to me in private but up here on the fucking stage you can flirt like everything is just fine?! _

Misha needs to get himself together, because he has a panel with Jensen later today, a full 45 minutes on stage when they’ve barely been able to  _ look  _ at each other.  

When the lunch break rolls around he seeks Jensen out in their green room, and finds him at a table with Jason Manns and his friend Steve Carlson.  Misha approaches slowly, and Jensen catches sight of him over Jason’s shoulder, their. His face changes, something subtle that Misha can’t really figure out, but it makes his heart thump a little harder against his ribs.  Jensen excuses himself from his conversation, pushing himself to his feet and closing the rest of the distance to Misha himself. Jason raises an eyebrow in their direction but turns back to Steve, and that’s the only thought Misha spares them because suddenly his view is completely eclipsed by Jensen’s shoulders.

“Hey.”  It’s one syllable, but Misha hears the question in it, as well as the fact Jensen was expecting this conversation.

“Can I talk to you in private?” Misha manages to ask quietly.  Jensen nods, and Misha leaves the room, steering them down the closest hotel service hallway where, thankfully, there’s no one around to overhear them.  Jensen leans on one wall and Misha leans on the wall across from him, he needs the distance between him and the smell of Jensen’s cologne to keep his head on straight for the moment.  When Jensen raises his eyebrows at him expectantly Misha sucks in a deep breath and taps into whatever confidence he can muster. “We need to figure this out. I can’t deal with this, this…  _ whatever _ that’s going on.”

“I know.”  Jensen sighs, running a hand through his hair.  “I just…”

“Jared came over to my room last night, he's worried about you.”  Misha doesn’t really want to guilt Jensen into this, but it works, and he watches Jensen’s guard come down.  He can see Jensen is just as confused as he is, and he hates that they've both shut each other out like this.

“I know he is.”  Jensen’s shoulders slump, and he leans his head back against the wall.  “Fucking moose hasn’t let me be for five minutes.” 

“You haven’t told him?”  Jared was Jensen’s best friend, if he hadn’t confided in him about this maybe Misha was right, and he really was ashamed.

“How do I even start?”  Jensen wonders out loud.  Misha doesn’t have an answer, so they stand together in the silence, the steady hum from the exposed piping and ducts above their heads filling the space.

“What happened that day?” Misha finally asks quietly, barely audible over the noise.

“I don’t know,” Jensen’s voice is even quieter, so Misha gives in and walks across the hallway, leaning on the wall next to Jensen but still with some distance between them.  “All I could think about was them kicking you off the show, of you leaving for good and...” Jensen crosses his arms, his body language closing off as he exposes his feelings.  “I just kept thinking of ways to try and help, to plead your case or threaten to break my contract or some shit.” Misha’s nerves start to tingle at the thought that Jensen would risk nearly  _ everything  _ to help him keep this job.  To keep Misha there with  _ him _ .  

“It’s just a job, Jensen,” Misha sighs.

“You know it’s not.”  Jensen’s voice is sharp, and Misha knows he’s right.  There’s no other cast and crew quite like Supernatural.  “And then-” Jensen cuts himself off as his face flushes. “I don’t know where the fuck it came from, but suddenly, I- I…” Jensen is starting to flounder, and Misha does what he always does- interjects with poorly timed humor.

“Was overwhelmed by my sexiness?  Had to get a piece of this?” Misha offers.  Jensen pauses for a beat before he laughs, bending at the waist with the force of it, and Misha grins as the tension breaks.

“Something like that,” he agrees.  A little pride worms its way into Misha’s chest, along with some butterflies because even though he’d said those words as a joke, he’s just realizing how badly he  _ wants  _ to be wanted by Jensen.

“Jensen, I get it,” he says, swallowing his butterflies, “I get how things like this can happen between friends.”  He chews on his cheek while he gathers his thoughts, looking up at Jensen to gauge his reaction. “Would it surprise you to know my first gay freak out was about Darius?”  Jensen’s eyebrows pop and his gaze snaps to Misha.

“Seriously?  Haven’t you guys been friends since you were 11?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t that, I don’t know, make things weird?” Jensen wonders, gesturing awkwardly with his hand.

“In a way that made it easier,” Misha chuckled.  “We already knew each other, it was just another step to alter our relationship.”

“You guys  _ dated _ ?” Jensen blurts.  

“Yeah, we did,” Misha laughs.  “A whole month. And then we went back to being friends.”  Jensen seems to be genuinely surprised, like most people are when Misha tells this story.  “Come on, you’ve heard the term friends with benefits before,” Misha shrugs. Jensen blushes and smiles, and Misha’s heart fucking pitter patters in his chest.  

“So, me and you doing...what we did.  It didn’t change anything?” Jensen’s expression is earnest, and Misha is  _ so  _ tempted to just blurt it out right then and there that it changed  _ everything,  _ but he doesn’t.

“No, it didn’t,” Misha assures him.  “I’m happy you trusted me enough to share that with you,” he adds, which is it’s own kind of cheesy but he just rolls with it because Jensen smiles at him, the infamous eye crinkles drawing attention to those beautiful green eyes.

“Course I trust you,” Jensen says without hesitation.  Jensen turns his body to face him, shoulder on the wall and eyes focused on Misha’s face.  “So we’re okay?”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a handjob in your trailer to chase me away,” Misha laughs, turning his body to face Jensen as well.  Jensen’s cheeks redden slightly, and he bites at his lip. Jensen moves closer as he lifts his arm, his fingers rubbing at his neck while he shifts nervously on his feet.  

“Even if we did something like that again?” he asks in a whispered rush.  Misha’s own face heats up as his eyes go wide.

_ Did he just…?! _

“You want...really?”  Misha’s own harsh whisper seems to echo through the hallway and Jensen smiles, somehow shy and coy at the same time.  Misha’s heart has lodged in his throat and he tries to swallow it down to no avail.

“I never got to return the favor.”  Jensen’s confidence is back and he’s so happy and almost eager… 

Maybe Misha  _ can _ be satisfied with just this… for a bit.  

“I think we can work something out,” Misha says before he changes his mind.

“Okay.”  Jensen’s smile fades slightly as his gaze drops briefly to Misha’s lips, those stupid bright green eyes moving back to his in a silent question.  Every ounce of saliva in Misha’s mouth vanishes as he nods minutely, watching in slow motion as Jensen’s right hand reaches towards him. His palm comes to rest on Misha’s cheek, sliding slowly over his jaw until his thumb slips under Misha’s chin, lifting Misha’s face to angle up at him.

Jensen closes the distance.  Or maybe Misha did. Either way, their lips press together, just for a moment.  Just long enough for Misha’s knees to sort of wobble as he leans closer-

“Mr. Collins?” A voice calls into the hallway.  Misha and Jensen spring apart, and Jensen clears his throat.

“Yeah?” Misha calls, and he watches his handler step into the hallway over Jensen’s shoulder.

“We’re needed in photo ops,” she says quickly, hardly sparing Jensen a glance as she steps back out of the hallway.

“Guess you better go,” Jensen says, tugging at his henley like it had been disheveled or something.  The moment is over, Jensen back to the aloof, stoic actor he always appears to be, and Misha feels himself slip back into old habits as well, naturally distancing himself from Jensen.

“Duty calls,” Misha sighs, stepping around Jensen towards the door.  “I’m glad we sorted this out before the panel, that would have been awkward.”

“You would have been a hot mess,” Jensen chuckles, nearly walking into Misha’s back as Misha stops to glare at him.

“Really?  Just me?”

“Come on, I’m way better at keeping my shit together up on stage,” Jensen points out.  Okay, that was true, Misha had to admit, but he feels the challenge in Jensen’s words. The banter is comfortable, it’s enough to show Misha they’re back to where they should be.

“I bet if I tried hard enough, I could get you to crack,” Misha mutters.  

“Hmm, yeah, okay,” Jensen laughs.  Misha and Jensen walk out of the hallway together, and Misha pauses one last time to glare at Jensen, pulling his shoulders back and standing tall.

“Challenge accepted, Jackles,” Misha hums.  Something flashes in Jensen’s eyes, dark and excited, and Misha feels the buzz of electricity between them before he’s ushered away by his handler.  

Of course, he doesn’t realize until after he’s standing in front of the camera, watching the first group of fans approach him, that he never ate lunch.   _ Dammit, Jensen. _

 

Misha gets the perfect opportunity to attempt and break Jensen.  The fan hands them the scene, and Misha knows he’s going to go for broke.  He doesn’t care about all the cameras in the audience, he doesn’t care what kind of rumors this is going to start, he’s determined to answer Jensen’s challenge.

He fakes an orgasm on stage.

It’s not really accurate, to be fair.  He exaggerates for effect, and not all the moans are real, but he slips a couple in there, and arches in the chair just right and the look on Jensen’s face…  _ priceless. _  Sure, he plays it off for the audience, but Misha knows him, he can see the tension in his neck, the utter shock in his eyes.  So maybe Jensen didn’t really “crack”, after all the audience probably didn’t notice, but Misha will take it as a win.

Granted, when answering the  _ very next question  _ Jensen called him a pussy, so his win didn’t last very long.

As they’re walking off stage to their late autograph sessions, Jensen slips behind Misha, leaning in just close enough to not be overheard by anyone else.

“Gonna pay for that,” he breathes.  Goosebumps spread down Misha’s arms at the not so innocent promise in Jensen’s voice, watching dazedly as Jensen moves away.  Misha follows their handlers and security as they make their way towards the autograph room, their group merging with Jared’s group on the way.

“Take it you and Jackles talked?” Jared says, walking forward to move up next to Misha. 

“Yeah,” Misha says distractedly.  “Yeah, he uh, was just upset with the showrunners.  About me leaving, you know.”

“That’s what he was hung up on?  I guess it makes sense,” Jared nods.  “But things are cool now?” Misha nods, smiling at Jared.

“Yeah, they should be.”

“Good man,” Jared grins, patting Misha rather hard on the shoulder before moving off to his table.  Misha sits at his own table, lining up the sharpies and making small talk with his assigned helper. Once the fans start streaming in, it’s back to work and back to public image Misha.  He genuinely admires all the work that some fans put into the art placed before him, and can’t help his little smirk when some of it borders on inappropriate. Misha keeps stealing furtive glances at Jensen across the room, drawn in by his smiles and his presence just like the fans asking for his autograph.  Misha feels slightly guilty for not giving the fans his full attention, but when Jensen looks up and catches Misha looking at him, the spark between them is practically  _ physical. _

Misha and Jensen are the first to finish their autos, along with Mark Sheppard.  They ditch their security detail at the elevator, all three of them chatting on their way up, saying goodnight to Mark he gets off on his floor.  The elevator closes behind him with a mechanical thud.

Then they're alone.

The tension is thick, but neither of them say anything, getting off the elevator on Misha’s floor and walking to his room.  Misha’s hand is trembling as he uses his key card to open the door, stepping inside the room as Jensen locks all the privacy locks.  Misha’s heart is pounding hard in his chest, a million possibilities of what is about to happen running through his mind. Misha watches Jensen turn away from the door slowly, walking towards him, his face full of amused concern.

“You okay?” he asks.  The tension breaks, and Misha feels his face flush in embarrassment.  He belatedly realizes that just because he and Jensen agreed to try something again it didn’t mean Jensen was going to jump his bones the second they were alone.  Not that Misha would have complained.

“Yeah, fine,” Misha squeaks, clearing his throat.

“Relax, Mish,” Jensen laughs, squeezing his shoulder as he moves past Misha into the room proper.  “You look like you're about to have a coronary.” 

“I’m sorry, I don't know what I expected to happen,” Misha shrugs, kicking off his shoes.  Jensen has already taken his shoes off, as well as his hat and his henley, down to a black tshirt and jeans.  “You stealing Dean’s clothes again, or just his fashion sense?” Misha teases. Jensen flips him off as he walks over to the beds.  It's obvious which one Misha has been using, Jared’s collection of liquor bottles from the night before still piled on the other mattress.

“Wow, you and Jared raided the minibar,” Jensen drops onto Misha’s bed, leaning against the headboard and smirking at him.  “How very teenagers-on-their-first-field-trip of you.”

“He was worried about you, asshole,” Misha shoots back, walking around to the other side of the bed and plugging his phone in to charge.  A bit self consciously since he has no undershirt on, he tugs his button up over his head, searching in his suitcase for a clean tshirt.

“If you're looking for a shirt to put on, don't bother,” Jensen says smugly.  Misha turns to make some sarcastic comment to find Jensen has removed his tshirt, and is grinning at Misha from the bed.

“I reiterate, asshole,” Misha huffs as he flushes, grabbing his pajamas and stalking to the bathroom.  He changes quickly, brushing his teeth and washing his face just to give himself a moment to breathe. Jensen knew exactly what he was doing, pushing Misha’s buttons, trying to get a rise out of him and Misha hated himself for it but dammit it was working.  

Misha hadn't really remembered the kiss.  It happened so quickly he thought he'd imagined it, had made it up in his head because his heart was pounding and Jensen was  _ right there _ .  Now it's all he can think about, the feel of Jensen’s lips, his gentle touch, and how much he'd expected it to happen again when they'd arrived in his room.  Granted, the anticipation was probably part of Jensen’s game, and Misha can't help but smile.

He walks back out of the bathroom, putting his jeans on the pile of dirty clothes he’ll have to pack in the morning.  Jensen has his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his stomach, and Misha allows his eyes the indulgence of drinking in the sight.

“Don't objectify me,” Jensen grumbles in a rough imitation of Dean.

“It's my room I can do what I damn well please,” Misha shoots back, climbing into bed and turning the light off.  Street light leaks through a gap in the curtain, as well as the muted sounds of the city below. Misha turns on his side with his back to Jensen, wrapping himself up in the sheets like he's going to sleep.  Whatever was going to happen tonight, Misha needed it to be Jensen’s decision. He already knows how badly  _ he  _ wants Jensen, he needs to find out if it was true that Jensen wants  _ him. _

The sound of Jensen’s belt coming undone echos in the silence, and the bed shifts a moment later as Jensen tosses his jeans on the floor and climbs under the sheets as well.  There's a pause where all Misha can hear is his heart beating, and then the heavy weight of Jensen’s hand on his hip, the bed dipping slightly behind him.

“Are you going home in the morning?” Misha asks, proud that he’s even attempting small talk while sharing a bed with a mostly naked Jensen.

“Yeah, I’ve done the tourist thing before.  Plus there’s talk we’ll be doing this again next year.”

“That’s good, I think I’m starting to like this city.”  Jensen’s fingers follow the line of his pelvis bone, tracing it lightly through his skin, and Misha’s heart rate picks up even further.  “I didn’t get to go to the Vatican on this trip-”

“Mish,” Jensen breathes, “you're not going to make this easy on me, are you?”  Misha grins into his pillow.

“Hmm, nope.  Frankly you deserve it after the three years of cruel and unusual punishment you call pranks.”  Jensen’s chin bumps his shoulder as his lips start to brush lightly at the skin of his throat. Misha struggles to keep his voice even.  “Think you can just be a dick to me like that and I’ll just let you have a one way ticket into my pants? Big fat nope.”

“I'm not the one who faked a fucking orgasm on stage,” Jensen quips, his hand gripping Misha’s hip tighter as his lips brush Misha’s ear.  “Fucking tease.”

“Come on, that wasn’t real,” Misha laughs, though it ends up as more of a gasp as Jensen presses kisses along his jaw.  “People gotta work to hear me moan for real.” Jensen groans in annoyance, scooting forward so his chest is pressed to Misha’s back, his knees barely brushing his thighs.

“Doesn’t fucking matter, you know what you were doing.”

“I was acting out a scene.  You know,  _ pretending.”   _ Misha is barely keeping himself together, he’s desperate for any kind of touch but he refuses to give in.

“All those cameras and prying eyes,” Jensen growls in his ear, his hand that wasn’t gripping his hip running up under the pillow to wrap around Misha’s chest, “and I had to fight popping a boner in front of them.”  Arousal pumps through Misha’s veins from the heat of Jensen’s body and words, quickly dropping into his groin. 

“You expect me to feel sorry for you?” Misha huffs as Jensen kisses along his hairline at the back of his neck.  He's enjoying this game now that he's the one doing the button pushing, feeling how desperate Jensen is getting as he gets a taste of his own medicine.

“Suppose that's not your style, is it,” Jensen growls,  _ finally  _ rolling his hips forward.  He’s fully hard, and with the firm press of him sliding into the cleft of Misha’s ass it's all Misha can do to remain still and not grind backwards into him.

“I don't think you're quite ready for my ‘style’ yet,” Misha groans.  

“ _ Fuck,  _ Mish,” Jensen’s voice comes out as a whine, his hips rolling against Misha in small thrusts.  It's not enough for either of them but Misha’s waited long enough for this, he can wait a little longer… “Please,” Jensen gasps, his hands pulling Misha tighter, his sweat starting to make them stick together.

“What was that?” Misha asks.  Jensen curses and thrusts  _ hard  _ against Misha, his breath hot against Misha’s ear.

“ _ Please,”  _ he whines, “I want you to- to-”

“Yes, Jensen?”

“Suck me off?”  Jensen’s will to fight is gone, and Misha smiles to himself, thinking he could get used to this submissive side of Jensen.  Misha rolls away from Jensen, getting up on his hands and knees and climbing over top of him. Jensen’s hands come up eagerly to slide along his ribs but Misha sits back and knocks them away.

“Under the pillow,” Misha demands, and Jensen does, anticipation sending a shiver through him that Misha can physically see.  Misha trails his hands greedily over Jensen’s chest, Jensen’s body a contradiction of hard muscle and soft edges, just like the man himself.  “You ever had a bj from a guy before?” Misha asks, sliding down Jensen’s legs, leaning forward as he goes to trail his lips across his stomach.  

“No,” Jensen admits, watching Misha closely as he approaches the waistband of Jensen’s boxer briefs.

“It’s quite a different experience,” Misha hums, moving to kneel in between Jensen’s gorgeous bow legs, spreading them with his knees as he speaks.  “See, women, even when they’re really good at giving head, don’t have a frame of reference.” Misha’s fingers tease along the waistband of Jensen’s underwear, snapping the elastic.  “They don’t know just how much pressure to use and where, how much teeth to tease with…” Misha’s fingers take hold of Jensen’s underwear and tug gently, scooting back far enough to slip them off and toss them aside, moving back up between Jensen’s legs and leaning over him, trailing wet kisses along his hips.  “But a guy knows  _ exactly _ where to touch, what to do.”  Misha trails just the tip of his tongue from Jensen’s naval down to the thatch of hair at the base of his shaft and grins when Jensen whines, rolling upwards towards Misha.

“Fucking  _ touch _ me please,” he moans.  Misha gives in and wraps his lips around the head of Jensen’s cock, applying light suction as his lips seal around him.  Jensen’s guttural groan is pornographic, and Misha flicks his tongue across the tip to catch the precome collecting there.  It’s bitter and salty, but Misha laps it up anyway before sliding down the warm length. It’s been a long time since Misha has done this, and it takes him a short while to slip back into the muscle memory.  Not to mention Jensen’s considerable size takes some getting used to as well. It’s messy, saliva has escaped Misha’s lips to help ease his slide, dripping down his chin and all over Jensen himself. His spare hand teases along Jensen’s skin, over his thighs, his stomach, down to Jensen’s balls and back around again, never resting in one place too long.  

He can feel Jensen tensing, groaning and panting for breath as his muscles tighten, his back bowing off the bed… and then Misha completely pulls away.  Jensen practically sobs in frustration, legs wrapping around Misha to try and bring him back as he sort of whimpers.

He just made Jensen Ackles  _ whimper. _

“Shh, easy,” Misha soothes, his fingers softly smoothing over Jensen’s hips.  “Just breathe.”

“God fucking damn it,” Jensen groans.

“Such language.”  Misha smirks when Jensen levels him with a glare.

“What the actual fuck, Mish?”  He makes quite the sight, flushed pink and skin glistening with sweat and saliva, and Misha isn’t anywhere near as intimidated by that glare as Jensen probably thinks he should be.

“This is called edging.”

“Yeah, I know, fucker,” Jensen huffs, rolling his eyes at Misha’s unnecessary explanation.  Misha notes that Jensen’s hands are still tucked under the pillow, and a surge of unexpected pride blooms in his chest.  Jensen must see something in his eyes because he turns his face away with a huff of breath. “You could lose the pants too, you know,” Jensen says, nudging Misha’s hip with his knee.

“You’re just jealous because I’ve seen you naked twice and I’m still a mystery to you.”

“ _ Misha _ ,” Jensen whines.

“Ugh,  _ fine, _ ” Misha scoffs.  Jensen relaxes his legs and Misha climbs off the bed awkwardly, quickly sliding his pajamas and underwear down and kicking them off.  Jensen gasps involuntarily. “Shut up,” Misha huffs, climbing back into his spot between Jensen’s pretty bow legs.  _ God  _ he loved those legs.

“I didn’t say anything!” Jensen laughs.

“I can  _ feel _ your dirty thoughts, you perv.”

“Says the guy who had my dick in hi-  _ FUCK!” _  Misha had ducked his head down again, sucking greedily on Jensen without warning.  Jensen’s hips thrust up into him and he just takes it, pulling his head back when Jensen thrusts too deep.  He brings his hands up, working the base of Jensen’s cock and slipping down below his shaft, finding that magic spot below his sac that sets Jensen writhing.  “Mish-ahh,  _ fuck,  _ Mish, please.”  Jensen’s legs wrap around Misha’s torso, and he feels Jensen quickly approaching the edge again, muscles tensing and breathing labored.  Misha presses down hard on his perineum and looks up at Jensen, waiting till their eyes meet, and he nods. Jensen cries out and Misha pulls off at the last second, Jensen coming hard across his own stomach and chest, a few drops even making it up to his shoulder.  Misha grins because  _ he  _ did that, watching slightly awed as Jensen collapses backwards.  He takes a few gasping breaths before he starts laughing.

“You okay?” Misha asks, moving up the bed to lay on his side next to Jensen.

“Fucking  _ awesome, _ ” Jensen pants, grinning at the ceiling as he starts to breathe normally again.  Jensen’s eyes drift over to Misha and then down his body, and Misha feels every bit of his nudity.  Especially the bit between his legs that twitches under Jensen’s darkened gaze. “Shit, look at you.”

“What?  I’m nothing special,” Misha blushes, fighting the urge to cover himself, though with the state he’s in it wouldn’t be that easy.  

“Want some help with that?” Jensen asks, smirking up at Misha suggestively before pointedly eyeing his crotch again.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Misha snaps sarcastically.  

“Didn’t know if I was allowed to move my hands yet,” Jensen winks.

“Ha ha, smartass.”  Jensen smirks and pushes himself up on his elbow, wasting no time in wrapping his hand around Misha’s cock in a firm grip.  

“God, you really got worked up while sucking me off,” Jensen murmurs into Misha’s neck.  Misha arches into Jensen’s body, unable to be embarrassed at his observation when his hand is squeezing Misha’s cock with  _ just  _ the right amount of pressure.  

“You’re pretty when you come,” Misha half moans.  Jensen leans back and Misha watches breathlessly as he raises his hand and licks his own palm, coating it efficiently with saliva before returning to Misha’s cock.  Misha groans his approval, his hips thrusting in time with the slide of Jensen’s hand as Jensen leans across Misha to taste his other collar bone. Misha can’t even bring himself to care that his come is sticky between them, not when he’s twisting his wrist  _ that  _ way and his stubble is dragging across his skin.

Misha’s orgasm crests suddenly, and he bites onto Jensen’s shoulder to muffle his shout as he comes between them, his fingers digging into the flesh of his back.  Jensen remains still as Misha comes down, waiting till Misha’s grip relaxes before rolling over onto his side.

“Holy fuck,” Jensen gasps.

Misha wholeheartedly agrees, his body still struggling for oxygen.  He can feel Jensen’s eyes on him, but as he comes down he can also feel both his come and Jensen’s cooling on his skin.

“Can you grab a washcloth?” Misha pants weakly.

“Oh, so now I have to clean up, too?” Jensen snorts.  Misha glares at him and Jensen rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine,” he huffs, rolling out of bed and walking over to the bathroom.  Misha closes his eyes and just breathes, listening to the water run in the bathroom as Jensen cleans up. He only opens his eyes again when Jensen tosses a damp cloth on his chest, and he scrubs himself off as Jensen crawls back in bed.   _ Still nude _ , Misha notes.  Tossing the washcloth, Misha turns towards Jensen and opens his arms.

“C’mere?” he asks.

“Oh, now you want to cuddle?” Jensen scoffs.  Misha just waits and with plenty of grumbling and eye rolling Jensen rolls over onto his side, letting Misha pull him close as the little spoon.  His hand comes to rest against Jensen’s chest, and for a while he just focuses on the feel of Jensen’s heartbeat under his fingers. “Dude, are you always this clingy?”  Jensen is trying to sound grumpy, but all it does is swell the affection in Misha’s chest.

“Mmhm, it’s my favorite part.”  Misha presses his lips against Jensen’s shoulderblade.  “You doing okay?” 

“You mean am I freaking out because I just had gay sex with my best friend?”

“Something like that.”

“Nah, I’m good.”  Jensen settles a little deeper into Misha’s hold with a sigh.  “I mean, the chest hair is weird, not used to that, but overall not bad.”  Misha reads between the words Jensen is saying, listening for any hesitation in his voice, and finds none.  

“Good,” Misha sighs, drifting off to sleep with his nose buried in Jensen’s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be ashamed but... XD


	4. 4. Airports and Condos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gasp* an update?!?! Anyway, reminder this is an AU, so take that into account for "historical inaccuracies" XD

Misha woke up to an alarm he didn’t remember setting, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he groped for his phone.  He shut off the alarm on the third try, stretching and sitting up to look around the room.

Empty.  Just his mess of dirty clothes and the luggage he needed to pack it in.

He doesn’t know what else he expected, it wasn’t like Jensen was obligated to stay through to the next morning.  Come to think of it, it was probably best that Jensen stole away before people started waking up, God knows what kind of rumors would get started if he’d been spotted leaving Misha’s room in the morning.  

It doesn’t make him any less bitter.

Misha swings his legs out of bed and looks down puzzled when his bare foot touches a piece of paper, bending to pick it up and smiling when he recognizes Jensen’s handwriting.  He must have knocked the note down when he’d grabbed for his phone.

 

_Hey, Mish.  You forgot an alarm, so I set one for you.  Your boarding pass that you left out on your table for anyone to see (dumbass) says we’re on the same flight, just text if you want to ride to the airport with me and Jared._

_Sorry to duck out on you, but I figured it’d be safer._

_J._

 

Misha’s heart swells with a fondness he really shouldn’t be feeling, so he tosses the note in the general direction of his suitcase and climbs out of bed to shower.  

As he scrubs away the lingering... bodily fluids, he focuses his mind on the next couple weeks.  He had some meetings with his agent in LA, discussing what projects he’d like to work on going forward, and the biggest question: if he’d still be on call for Supernatural for future one-off episodes.  After that it’s back to Europe for another cycle of conventions, but conventions Jared and Jensen won’t be attending. Conventions without them mean more work for him, but generally he doesn’t mind too much, since he becomes the center of fangirl attention.  Misha wanted to take a little time for himself once all that was done, maybe go on a trip back to Asia if Vicki had some time off, but taking too long a hiatus from acting could be bad for his career going forward, and eventually what money he did have would run out.  

He dries off quickly and dresses in jeans, tugging on a t-shirt and a hoodie before systematically combing the room for his belongings.  Shoving them all in his suitcase, he’s just finished zipping it up when his phone buzzes with a text.

 

_Jared: Hey man, Jackles says your flight is the same as ours, wanna ride to the airport?_

_You: Yeah, just finishing up packing now._

_Jared: Awesome, we’re grabbing some coffee, the car should be here in about 15 minutes._

_You: I’ll meet you at the loading dock._

 

Misha didn’t usually care about wandering the hotel, even after a con, but Jared and Jensen were forced to take more precautions than him.  As a result, their drivers always picked them up at the back of the hotel, to avoid the fans lingering in the lobby. It wasn’t that they were trying to avoid being bothered, it was more that Jared couldn’t ever say no to a fan, and they’d always end up running super late.  Being recognized in public was still a novel thing for Misha, considering he could go to the grocery store back home and no one would bat an eye at him.

He heads downstairs, tugging his suitcase behind him as he walks the corridors of the hotel.  He grabs a coffee at the little shop in the lobby and makes his way down the service hallway to the back entrance.  Jared and Jensen are waiting outside with their own coffees, and they both nod at Misha as he walks out to wait with them.

“Morning,” Jared sighs on a yawn.  Misha nods, taking a sip of his coffee as he glances at Jensen.  Jensen eloquently grunts in greeting as he chugs from his cup, no sign in his eyes or face that this morning was different from any other morning.  

Then again for Jensen, it probably wasn’t.

They make idle small talk on the ride to the airport, stopping for just a couple photos as they walked to their gate.  Misha wasn’t sitting next to Jared and Jensen on the flight, but the seat next to him was empty, so once they were airborne Jared made his way back to visit with Misha, letting Misha talk through some of the things he wanted to ask his agent.  Misha was grateful for the feedback, jotting things down as they came to mind. The first leg of their trip was only about two hours, they were stopping in Switzerland for a hour and a half layover before hopping on a larger plane to L.A.

“You gonna be okay?” Jared asks, big puppy eyes softening as he watches Misha gather up his notes.

“Believe it or not, I’m an adult.  I’ll move past this,” Misha smiles.

“Alright.  You know, you don’t have to be a stranger,” Jared adds.  “Just give me a holler and you can come visit Gen and I anytime.”

“Aren’t you still in that honeymoon phase?” Misha asks.  “I mean, I’m kinky, but voyeurism really isn’t my thing.”

“Dude, gross,” Jared gags, and they both start laughing.  

“What’s so funny?” Jensen asks, walking up to stand next to their seats.  “Dude, leaving me alone next to that creepy old guy? Not cool.” Jensen punches Jared in the arm but Jared doesn’t even flinch.

“That’s very nice of you and not judgemental at all.”  Jensen rolls his eyes at Misha’s scolding.

“You didn’t see the way he stared at me.”  Jensen shudders and Jared laughs. “Anyway, what were ya’ll talking about?”

“Misha apparently has a voyeurism kink,” Jared says, nice and loudly.

“Really?!” Misha scoffs, glancing around the plane cabin.  “Just announce that for the world to hear!”

“Wouldn’t be embarrassing if it wasn’t true,” Jensen points out with a smirk.  Misha’s temperature immediately shoots up as he meets Jensen’s eyes, but he accepts the challenge.

“Anyway what I said was voyeurism _isn’t_ my thing.”  Misha tugs his lower lip between his teeth for effect.  “Exibitionism, however…” Jared chuckles and Jensen barks out a laugh dropping his chin to his chest with a resigned smile.

“Go figure you’d be a kinky s.o.b.”  Jared nudges Misha with his elbow, and Misha shrugs in response.

“You know what?  I don’t think kinks are something to be ashamed of.”  Misha looks up at Jensen and raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure the two of you won’t understand, probably have super vanilla sex lives.”  Misha can see Jensen’s smile grow forced, which makes his discomfort obvious and makes Misha smile in victory. _Two can play at this game Jensen._

“Well of course we are, compared to you anyway.”  Misha blinks at Jared in confusion.

“And what would you know about it?”

“I’ve read Vicki’s book.”

“You did what?!” Misha coughs, choking on air.

“Yeah, you had mentioned something about her being published, and I got bored one day and googled.”  Jared shrugs, like it’s no big deal that Misha’s on-set torturer now has _deeply_ personal information he can use to exploit him.  Misha had gladly let Vicki include some of the experiences they’d shared while dating in her book _The Threesome Handbook_ , he’d never considered that getting on a show like Supernatural would mean that exponentially more people would know about his sex life.  Including his coworkers apparently.

“What book?” Jensen asks curiously.   _Oh shit…_ Misha groans inwardly, wishing he wasn’t stuck on a plane for this conversation.

“I never told you?!”  Jared's tone is full on gleeful at the opportunity to embarrass the fuck out of Misha.  “Vicki wrote this book about having threesomes, like a legit ‘how to’ manual, and she totally mentions Misha a few times.  Not by name, but it’s pretty obvious.” Misha is blushing now, and Jensen’s eyes widen as he _stares_.  

“She...you... _threesomes?”_ Jensen is at least whispering, but the woman in the row behind them clears her throat noticeably.

“The correct description for what we experienced was polyamory.”

“Poly- _what_?!”

“Polyamory,” Misha repeats.  “Vicki and I both fell in love with a friend of hers, and we were all in a relationship together.”  He pulls his shoulders back in defiance, daring Jensen to say anything negative about it. To Jensen’s credit he seems to he seriously thinking about his response.

“So, you were in love with Vicki, but you were in love with another girl at the same time?”  Misha’s not surprised Jared’s having a hard time figuring this out, not many people have heard the term.   At least his curiosity is genuine and not malicious.  “And ya’ll kinda...shared?”

“Like I said, sorry you guys are bored out of your minds with vanilla sex.”  Misha is doing his best not to laugh, as Jensen just gapes at him.

“C’mon I need stories man!” Jared begs.

“I’ll be happy to regale you at a later time, but for now can we stop talking about this?  Please?”

“Why save for later what you can talk about right now?” Jared tries again, and the shine in Jensen’s eyes speaks to his agreement.  Normally Misha wouldn’t actually have any problems talking about this with Jared, but having Jensen there…

There was no way the two of them would come out of that conversation without Jared being scarred for life.

The fasten seatbelt light came on and the ding rang out through the cabin, the pilot announcing everyone needed to be back in their seats to start their descent.  

“Oh, too bad, Jackles,” Jared sighs, “looks like you’re going to miss out on this conversation.”

“Yeah, you need to get back to your seat too, jackass _,”_ Jensen snaps as Jared laughs.  Misha looks up at Jensen, who has a mischievous glint in his green eyes as he turns to walk back to his seat, and the promise in his gaze gives Misha goosebumps.  

They grab a more substantial breakfast during their layover, and thankfully the conversation from the plane was forgotten.   Jensen is spotted by a pair of teens on their way to their gate, and once they’ve seen Jared all three of them are asked for quick hugs and photos, though Misha isn’t quite sure they _really_ recognized him.  Shortly after that they’re back on a plane, ready for the long haul over the ocean and back to the US.  Misha was planning on napping for most of the flight, but that plan was given up as hopeless when Jensen dropped into the seat next to him.

“Traded my seat,” he explains with a wink.

“If you’re going to insist on continuing the conversation from earlier you can kindly fuck off,” Misha says blandly.

“Nah, I’ll just read the book.”  Jensen buckles in next to him, and the two of them are quiet as the plane takes off.  Misha watches out the window as the scenery slowly shrinks below them, and Jensen doesn’t speak until they’ve reached cruising altitude.

“Sorry about this morning,” he says vaguely.

“It was smart.”  Misha waits for the flight attendant to take their drink order before continuing.  “We should probably be smarter about that in the future.”

“Well, Jared and I usually don’t room at the con hotel, so…”

“Look I told Jared earlier, no voyeurism.  Now, if you were the one watching, I suppose me and Jared could-”

“Oh god, Mish.”  Jensen gags, punching Misha in the arm as Misha laughs.  

Misha is astounded that as they talk everything between him and Jensen feels... _normal._  Jensen wastes his breath attempting to explain the importance of football to Misha, like he always does, and Misha rambles on and on about Random Acts while Jensen listens with rapt attention.  They talk about movies they’d like to see, share anecdotes about people they’ve met, and it’s just as easy for Misha to get lost in their conversation as it’s always been.

So maybe his eyes linger a little longer on Jensen’s lips than they used to, sue him.

Eventually Misha must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows the plane is being jostled as they come in for their landing.  He sits up groggily, realizing he’d been dozing with his head on Jensen’s shoulder.

“M’sorry,” he mutters, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“S’all good, grabbed some incriminating pictures,” Jensen shrugs, winking at Misha.  Misha doesn’t quite believe that he’s kidding. The late afternoon LA sun shines brightly through the window as Misha watches them taxi down the runway.  Pretty soon he’ll have to say goodbye to Jensen, and it’ll start sinking in that he won’t be seeing him as much anymore.

“This sucks,” he admits out loud.

“I know,” Jensen agrees.

“No, you don’t,” Misha sighs as they pull up to their gate.  Jensen frowns at him, but Misha ignores him, keeping his eyes on his bag as he pulls it out from under the seat in front of him.

“I really do.”  Jensen stands and grabs his carry on before Misha can say anything, and Misha follows behind, trying not to let the sway of Jensen’s hips distract him.

Jared meets up with them as they walk down the gangplank, yawning and looking like he’s had a great nap, much to Misha’s displeasure.  Jared says a quick goodbye before he calls Gen, waving as he makes his way towards baggage claim on his own. Jared’s smile lights up the whole airport, and Misha can’t help but feel happy for his friend.

“Check that smile, I bet Gen’s gonna have a great night at casa Padalecki,” Misha chuckles.  

“Dude gross,” Jensen shudders.  The two of them leave the crowd behind as the walk at a rapid pace down the moving sidewalk.  

They step off the escalator onto the baggage claim level, and Misha is trying to think about anything other than the fact this is their last few minutes together.  Jensen taps Misha’s arm to get his attention, and Misha glances at him long enough to see something apologetic in his eyes.

“Listen, Mish, I was thinking maybe-“

“Hey you!!” a female voice calls out loudly, and Jensen’s head turns, a beaming smile on his face.

“Hey, Dee!” he calls back, opening his arms as a rather beautiful woman jumps into them.  Misha recognizes her, Danneel Harris, a friend of Jensen’s and an old co-star. She plants a kiss on Jensen’s forehead, and he leans in close, whispering something in her ear that makes her giggle as he finally sets her down.  Misha’s frozen in place, watching the two of them as they say their hellos, their familiarity apparent in their body language. Jensen doesn’t step back like he does with most people when they’re in his space, he doesn’t flinch away when her hand rests on his arm.  Hell, he even wraps an arm around her shoulders, and Misha doesn’t miss the flirty way she tosses her hair.

_God, I’m an idiot._

Jensen looks over at him, and Misha turns away quickly, hoping the fact he was staring wasn’t too obvious.  He wants to just leave his bag behind and walk away, but Jensen saying his name keeps his feet firmly planted.  

“Misha, this is Danneel,” Jensen introduces them, smiling like it’s the greatest thing in the world.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Danneel beams at him, reaching out to shake his hand.  He does out of reflex, hoping his smile doesn’t look too fake.

“Hopefully not all terrible,” Misha jokes, again out of reflex.  She really is gorgeous, auburn hair, bright smile, and Misha for some reason suddenly feels a lot worse about himself.  Funny how that works.

“All wonderful things, actually,” she laughs.  “Jensen isn’t much of a gossip, I have to rely on Jared for that.”  She smiles, a bright flash of teeth. “You going to be in LA long?”

“About a week or so, then I’m heading home to pack for my trip back to Europe.”  Misha shrugs slightly.

“Right, Jensen said you live in Washington.   And you’re going right back to Europe? On vacation?”

“Conventions,” he and Jensen say at the same time.

“I still don’t get why you do so many,” Jensen wonders.

“Some of us don’t get paid as much as others,” Misha quips, “and have to make a living somehow.”

“Yeah, but a whole month’s worth?”

“It’s not like I have anything here to stay for,” Misha shrugs, watching with bitter satisfaction as Jensen’s jaw snaps shut.

“We should get together, have dinner sometime,” Danneel says brightly, taking Misha’s arm and tugging him closer to the baggage carousel as it rumbles by.  Misha hadn’t really noticed the tension between him and Jensen, but he definitely feels it deflating as Danneel leads him away.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Misha shrugs, not exactly sure what he’d be intruding on and preferring not to think about it.

“Nonsense!  I want to find out who this Misha guy is that Jensen’s been gushing about,” she insists.  Misha glances over his shoulder at Jensen to see him shrugging bashfully, and it makes Misha even more confused.

“He can be a bit of a dick,” Misha says, falling back on his self deprecating humor.  “Horrible table manners, too.”

“Sweetie, I’m from Louisiana.  Gonna take some pretty bad manners to turn my stomach.”  She smiles and it feels genuine enough that Misha lets a bit of his guard down.

“I might be able to free up some time,” Misha admits over the sound of bags dropping onto the conveyor belt.

“I can’t wait!” Danneel giggles, squeezing his arm tightly before releasing him to walk back over to Jensen, who’s already grabbed his bag.  Misha watches them talk out of the corner of his eye, chatting with an ease that he’s only seen Jensen show in Jared or himself.

It’s discomforting in a way Misha doesn’t understand.

Once his suitcase comes around, he waves half heartedly at Jensen and Danneel and turns for the door, hailing a cab to drive him to the hotel he’s staying at while in LA.  He knows traffic is going to be a while, so to give himself something to do he decides to start tackling the pile of emails in his inbox.

Something ugly starts to dig its nails into Misha’s chest, and it almost makes him physically sick.  He’s not allowed to be _jealous_ , he chose to let this...thing...with Jensen happen, knowing full well it wasn’t serious.  He logically knows that she and Jensen aren’t dating, Jensen is too good a person to do what they’ve been doing if he was seeing someone, but Jensen was smiling and she was giggling, and they’re allowed to greet each other like that in public when he and Misha will _never_ have that.  

By the time the cabbie has gotten through the traffic to where Misha’s staying, he’s completely exhausted and ready to get this trip over with.  He checks into the hotel on autopilot, riding the elevator to his room and walking down the hall like a zombie. He locks the extra locks before stripping and crawling into bed in his boxer briefs, passing out the moment his head hits the pillow.

 

***

**_April 17, 2011_ **

 

Misha wakes up on his fifth day in LA with a lead weight in his stomach.  After four days of meetings with his agent, with the WB network, and with companies looking for advertising ( _fuck that noise_ ), Cas’ death is truly starting to get to him.  Misha is ready to just leave California and this whole mess behind, to go back to Washington and just _forget_.  

He leaves his phone behind to take a run, thankfully unnoticed by any Supernatural fans he may pass by.  He doesn’t know if he’s in the right state of mind not to spoil what has him in such a pissy mood just to spite the network.  Once his legs are sufficiently jelly, he makes his way back to his room to find he’s missed some texts from an unknown number.

 

_?: Hey, it’s Danneel, I got your number from Jen.  Would you be available to come visit tonight? I’m throwing a little party at my building.  Private, no razzi._

_?: Jensen’s telling me that may not be your thing.  Nice of him to warn me beforehand._

_?: We can do a quiet dinner just the three of us?  You don’t have to stay for the party._

 

Misha peels out of his sweaty clothes and gets the water running in his shower before he unlocks his phone to answer.  His fingers hesitate over his keyboard for a moment, before he takes a deep breath and types his reply.

 

_You: Let’s start with that quiet dinner and go from there._

 

He adds Danneel’s contact information to his phone and climbs in the shower, letting the hot water beat against his sore muscles.  He didn’t want to judge before getting to know her, but he had a general idea of what the party Danneel was throwing was going to be like.  Misha wasn’t one to go to those kinds of stereotypical Hollywood parties, a chance for D listers like him to schmooze their way into C, or even B status.  It was all so fake, and he just hoped he’d be proved wrong. He knew Jensen pretty well, but he didn’t know many of his friends outside of work; for all Misha knew Jensen rolled with that crowd, he hadn’t exactly asked.

Once he’s washed he climbs out of the shower and towels off, wrapping it around his waist as he walks to the sink.  He has a decent amount of stubble growing in, and he decides to leave it for tonight, combing his hair into his usual messy quaff and walking out to get dressed.  He pulls on some khakis and a deep blue denim shirt over a grey undershirt, not really worried about his outfit aside from making sure it was clean. His phone pings with another text.

 

_Jensen: I realized you don’t have Dee’s address.  Just get here and tell security your name, they’re expecting you.  See you around 5pm?_

 

His phone pings again a moment later with an address, and Misha types back an affirmative with shaking fingers.

Jensen’s already there, helping her set up the party.

It’s not a big deal, but it _feels_ like one.  It’s not Jensen and Danneel’s friendship Misha’s upset by, his and Jensen’s is just as strong, no it’s the _potential_.  Jensen wouldn’t think twice about taking Danneel with him to a party like this, wouldn’t think twice about being seen with her in public, wouldn’t think twice about making them into something more, while Misha…he’ll never be that to Jensen.  Jensen has an image to uphold, to protect, for his career after Supernatural, and Misha doesn’t fit into that image.

And suddenly Misha starts to realize that maybe...maybe he really wishes he _did_ fit.

He’s about to text back and try to cancel when he gets another text from Jensen.

 

_Jensen: I’m so glad you two are finally meeting.  I think you’ll get along great._

 

Misha just replies with a smiley face, instead.

 

The taxi drops him off at a nice condo building, nicer than he can afford anyway.  He walks up to the security gate and gets an intense stare down as his ID is checked against the visitor list.  After buzzing up to Danneel’s condo, the guard gets the okay from her and Misha walks through the gate and into the complex proper.  Checking numbers on the sides of buildings, he finds Danneel’s and walks up to her door, knocking lightly, hoping the nerves twisting his stomach go away soon.

“Hey!  I’m so glad you came,” she grins as she opens the door, air kissing Misha’s cheek before stepping aside to let him in.  The condo is spacious, and the fact that most of the furniture is pushed to the side to prepare for the party adds to that effect.

“Nice place,” Misha says as he follows Danneel into the dining room.

“Thanks!  I haven’t put a whole lot of work into it, it basically came furnished.”  She gestures for Misha to sit at the table. “Jensen was showering, I’m not sure what’s taking his frilly ass so long,” she huffs, walking into the kitchen.  Misha snorts a small laugh. “Want some wine?” she calls from the other room.

“Sure, have any reds?”  Danneel doesn’t answer, but walks back out into the dining area with three glasses and a bottle of Cabernet.  “Take that as a yes,” he chuckles.

“We haven’t even eaten yet and you’re already opening the booze,” Jensen calls from behind Misha, clapping him on the back as he walks behind him.  Misha can smell his cologne, and when he turns to say hi his heart lodges itself in his throat.

Jensen looks stunning in too tight denim pants and a dark green Henley over a white tshirt, his hair still damp from the shower.  A smirk spreads across his face when he catches Misha looking.

“My guest wanted some wine, you were taking too long in the shower,” Danneel reasons, handing Misha his glass.  “I’m going to go get the food. Misha, is puttanesca okay?”

“Sounds wonderful,” he says with a smile, sipping at his wine.  Jensen pours himself a glass and drops into the chair next to Misha.

“Hey, Misha.”

“Jensen.”  Misha hides his brusqueness behind his wineglass as he takes another sip.

“How did your meetings go?”  Misha shrugs blandly and Jensen winces, reading exactly what Misha was thinking from his body language.  “That bad, huh?”

“Well, I have no new projects on the horizon and WB reserves the right to call me in to play Cas at a moment’s notice through the end of next season.”

“Ouch,” Jensen sighs.  “Are they at least paying you enough?”  Misha stares into his glass, shrugging his shoulder before taking another sip.

“It wasn’t ever about the money, Jensen, you know that.”

“Mish-”  Danneel walks out with a pot of food and his and Jensen’s conversation stops in favor of eating.  

Danneel, as it turns out, does have a lot in common with Misha.  Their sense of humor clicks, usually at Jensen’s expense, as does her desire to make things better in the world.  Other than small acting roles, she does some work as a model, which Misha jokes is where their similarities stop, but he feels relaxed around her, and he’s grateful for it.  The jealous monster that had reared its head the day they met is quieted and sent to sleep, Misha flirts with her enough throughout the night to realize it’s just an aspect of her personality, and one he apparently shares.  The two bottles of wine probably don’t hurt either.

“Just forget I’m even here,” Jensen grumbles as their evening winds down.  Misha belatedly realizes that Jensen hasn’t said much in the past hour, but he decides to tease instead of apologizing.

“Sure thing, want to head back to the bedroom then, Danneel?”  Misha winks and Jensen sputters into his cup.

“Ooh, I’d love to, but maybe another night,” she laughs, “I do have company coming over.”  

“I bet I could get you off with time to spare,” Misha hums.  Jensen chokes on his last sip of wine, and Danneel starts laughing.  

“Baby, I don’t do quick and fast, I like to make you beg for it.”  She pushes to her feet with a wink, taking the last of their dishes out to the kitchen, and Misha smirks at Jensen.

“I think I like her.”  Jensen’s face is flushed, and he scowls at Misha.  “You okay over there?” Misha teases.

“I’m really starting to regret introducing the two of you.”  

“Listen if you’re jealous you could just join in-“

“Haha shut up,” Jensen grumbles.  Misha swirls the last of his wine in his cup, smiling to himself.  The alcohol has warmed him slightly, though he’s not quite drunk. He’s always had a fairly high tolerance for wine, strangely enough.  “Are you going to stick around for the party?” Jensen asks, his voice softer than before.

“I’m feeling a little more up to it,” Misha shrugs.  “I might stay for a bit.” Jensen grins at him and Misha decides maybe it’s worth it just for that smile.

He then decides he probably _has_ had too much wine, if that’s how sappy he was going to be.

The guests start arriving, and soon there’s club music playing too loudly from an oversized speaker and at least 25 people mingling in the dimly lit condo.  Misha hangs back, speaking when spoken to by people he has no hope of remembering as he watches the crowd. Jensen knows quite a few of these people, and Misha contents himself with observing Jensen as he moves through the party.  He has a strut about him that bleeds confidence, it’s something Misha wishes he could duplicate but he knows he’s too naturally awkward to do so. Jensen may be introverted, but when he’s ‘performing’ he can turn on that charm better than anyone Misha knows.

After a while people start to become more inebriated, and Misha starts to think he should be leaving.  Scanning the crowd for Jensen, he starts to panic a bit when he can’t find him. Walking through the condo, he finds Jensen tucked away towards the back hallway, leaning in close to talk to Danneel over the music.  Jensen’s face is serious, his brow furrowed as Danneel says something, and he shakes his head, shifting his feet and glancing up. He makes eye contact with Misha and for a brief second, the doubt and the weight of whatever Danneel said lingers on his face, but it quickly dissolves into a beaming smile.  Danneel looks over at Misha and walks away with a knowing look on her face as Misha walks up to Jensen. Misha tries not to think about it.

“What’s going on?” he asks just loud enough for Jensen to hear.

“Nothing,” Jensen shrugs.  Misha raises an eyebrow, and Jensen sighs.  “Nothing to do with me, just a mutual friend of ours,” he assures him.  Deciding this isn’t the time or place to push the issue, Misha just shrugs.

“I think I’m gonna head out.”  Some cheesy dance song with a heavy beat starts playing over the rigged sound system, nearly drowning out the end of his sentence.  Jensen smiles when it starts and reaches out to grab Misha by the waist, leaning in close.

“Dance with me first?” he asks.  Misha immediately freezes, keeping as much distance between them as possible.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?!” he hisses, glancing nervously around the room.  No one is paying them any mind, but if someone were to decide to look over…

“Hey,” Jensen tugs gently on Misha, drawing his attention back to those fucking ridiculous green eyes.  “It’s okay, Mish, just one dance.”

“Even if we weren’t in public you know I can’t dance for shit,” Misha complains, but he forces his muscles to relax, letting Jensen’s hands move his hips slightly.

“I got this.”  Jensen winks, and Misha can’t help but give in.

 

_Lately, I've been stuck imagining_

_what I wanna do and what I really think_

_Time to blow out_

_Be a little inappropriate,_

_'cause I know that everybody's thinkin' it_

_when the light's out_

 

“You’re kidding, right?!” Misha laughs.  “You want to dirty dance with me to Britney Spears?”

“Shut up,” Jensen snaps, yanking Misha against him and effectively silencing Misha’s protest.  Misha humors him, attempting to at least have some semblance of rhythm as Jensen guides his hips, their bodies swaying together to the music.  Jensen spins him, grinding up against Misha from behind as he noses in behind Misha’s ear. Misha can feel his body betraying him, melting into Jensen’s hands and arms as heat starts to spread from his touch.

 

_Lately, people got me all tied up_

_There's a countdown waitin' for me to erupt_

_Time to blow out_

_I've been told who I should do it with,_

_to keep both my hands above the blank-blanket_

_when the light's out_

 

“Okay, maybe Britney isn’t bad,” Misha gasps as Jensen grinds his hips against Misha with a purpose.  He really should stop this, he can feel the hard line of Jensen’s cock pressed against his ass, even through the layers of clothing.  Misha _wants_ it, too, and that’s the part that’s scaring him.  He wants Jensen bad enough he’s starting not to care who sees them dry humping like a couple teenagers in their little dark corner.  

“I figured you’d come around.”  Jensen’s voice is a dark rumble in Misha’s ear, sending another wave crashing against his self control.

“I mean, once you get past the auto tune and the cheesy as fuck lyrics…” Misha pauses to swallow a groan as Jensen’s tongue darts out to taste the base of his neck.  “In fact, the beat is so catchy you can almost overlook the shitty song.” Jensen chuckles, a puff of hot air against his skin.

“It is a shit song,” Jensen agrees, his hand slipping up beneath Misha’s shirt, “but now every time I listen to it I’m gonna imagine you in these clothes,” Jensen’s teeth nip at his ear, “the way this feels,” he rolls his hips and _thrusts_ forward, startling a gasp that ends on a quiet moan from Misha, “and pop a fucking boner every time.”

“Maybe I should keep a little hidden CD player on set,” Misha chuckles, resting his arm over the one exploring the skin of his hips, “and next time you have a serious scene hit play.”

Except he wasn’t going to _be_ on set anymore.

From the way Jensen’s grip becomes possessive, he noticed Misha’s slip up too.

“Jensen-“

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry-“

“I said shut up,” Jensen snaps, and Misha suddenly finds himself being manhandled into one of the bedrooms, barely registering the click of the lock before Jensen is on him.  Misha’s back hits the wall and Jensen begins to devour his neck in nips and kisses, hands mapping Misha’s torso and leaving fever heat behind. When their lips finally meet Misha kisses Jensen back with fervor, giving just as good as he’s getting.

Misha is helpless, it’s dizzyingly good to feel Jensen pressed against him this way, to feel his hands and his lips on his skin as he undoes the buttons on Misha’s shirt.  He knows, somewhere in his mind, that he should be more worried about being caught, but Jensen rolls his hips and practically fucks into Misha’s groin and it shuts out any other brain activity.

“You suck at dancing,” Jensen speaks against Misha’s neck.

“I warned you.”  Jensen steps back from Misha but before he can miss the pressure against his groin Jensen falls to his knees.  Everything in Misha’s body- his heart, his dick, his lungs- shakes at the way Jensen is looking at him through hooded eyes.  “What- what are you-?”

“What does it look like?” Jensen smirks, hands tracing the shape of Misha’s thighs, coming up across his hips to rest on the denim less than an inch from his cock.  He pauses for a beat, and Misha, God help him, simply nods. Jensen’s answering growl sends a shudder through him as his fingers deftly undo Misha’s belt, button, and fly in quick succession.  He shimmies Misha’s pants down to about mid thigh, his hand tentatively coming up to brush against the hard length of Misha’s cock. “I uh, I’ve never done this before, so sorry if I suck.” Misha laughs hard and loud at the bad pun, and Jensen’s confusion melts into embarrassed amusement when he catches up.

“How long did you think about that one?” Misha teases.

“The joke?” Jensen asks.  “Or doing this?” He gently slips Misha out into the open air through the slit on his orange briefs, fingers wrapped around him gently as he leans forward to lick across the head.

“You-you’ve thought about this?” Misha gasps, trying to keep his hips steady as Jensen explores with his mouth, getting used to the feel of Misha on his lips.

“Mmhmm, since you did it to me,” Jensen pulls back to admit, smiling shyly up at Misha, and there’s no fucking way he should be allowed to look so innocent with his face so close to Misha’s cock.  Misha keeps meaning to ask Jensen how he’s rolling with this whole “being gay” thing so easily, but Jensen’s mouth wraps around him and he tables that discussion for another time.

Jensen starts out hesitant, obviously wanting to please Misha but unsure if he’s doing what Misha needs.  Misha’s left hand gently pets Jensen’s hair, his right hand coming to rest against his cheek. Jensen looks up at him questioningly, saliva glistening on his lips, and Misha swallows a whimper.

“May I?” he breathes.  Jensen swallows and nods, keeping his eyes on Misha as he takes him back in his mouth.  Misha uses the lightest of touches to tilt Jensen’s head, trying not to think about the level of trust Jensen is showing him as his fingers brush his throat, urging him to relax his neck and jaw even further.  

Misha feels it, as soon as Jensen finds that perfect angle, and his eyes flutter closed as Misha starts to carefully rock his hips.  Distantly, Misha registers that Jensen’s hand has dropped to work his own pants open, his low hums of pleasure as he works himself sending sparks up Misha’s spine.

Jensen was getting off on sucking Misha’s cock.

“ _Fuck,_ Jensen,” Misha moans.  Jensen starts to work his tongue around the head of Misha’s cock when Misha pulls back, and he looks up Misha’s body to meet his eyes.  His cheeks are flushed, eyes dark with arousal, lips wrapped obscenely around Misha and the pace of his own hand is nearly frantic as he works himself.  It was too much, an image Misha was never going to forget. “Jen-, I’m- I’m going to-” It’s all the warning he can give, and Jensen pulls back just in time for Misha’s release to spill down over his neck and chest, Misha’s entire body shaking as the pleasure takes him.  

He drops to his knees, halfway landing in Jensen’s lap just as Jensen’s eyes squeeze shut, the veins popping on his neck as he throws back his head and comes over his fist, barely missing Misha’s pants.  The sight Jensen makes, his shirt covered in cum and skin flushed is straight out of a porn, and Misha knows the image is never leaving his brain. Careful to keep any fluids off Jensen’s face, Misha removes the soiled henley, letting Jensen clean himself off with it before tossing it aside and wrapping his arms around Jensen’s neck.

“So, did I suck, or what?” Jensen quips.  Misha huffs a light laugh into Jensen’s shoulder, tugging him closer.

“Oh, you definitely sucked.”  Jensen’s quiet for a moment, then-

“Hang on, was that part of the joke, or…”  Misha laughs, pulling away slightly to brush his lips against Jensen’s cheek.

“You did good,” he assures him.  He awkwardly pushes himself to his feet, tucking himself back in his pants as Jensen does the same.  “Sorry about ruining your shirt.”

“It’s whatever, I’ve got plenty.  Think I stole that one from wardrobe anyway.”  Misha snorts a laugh.

“I knew it, you _are_ borrowing Dean’s clothes.”

“Nah, it’s more they wind up in my bag when I’m packing my trailer to head home,” Jensen runs a hand up the back of his neck, looking up at Misha shyly.  “You know, Dani wouldn’t mind if we stayed here for the night.” Jensen nods at the bed on the other side of the room and Misha’s heart swells because he _wants_ that more than anything but… something holds him back.  Something about this _not_ being what it seems to be.

“No, I better go.  I’ve got an early plane to catch,” Misha sighs regretfully.  Jensen nods, watching as Misha buttons up his shirt again with a wistful sigh.  Misha does his best to examine his clothes in the dim light, hoping there’s no evidence of what just happened inconveniently splattered on his pants.  “Okay, guess I’ll see you at… where’s our next con together?”

“Nashville, so you best invest in a cowboy hat.”  Jensen’s drawl comes out slightly, and yeah, sometimes Misha forgets he’s Texan.  Not that he minds one bit.

“Yeah, okay cowboy,” Misha chuckles.  Jensen gives him a hug, patting his back hard, and Misha muses in a sad way how quickly Jensen went from sucking him down to “no homo” bro hugging.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Jensen adds with a smile.  There’s a strain around his eyes when he says it, like he doesn’t want to say goodbye, and Misha feels it in his own smile, too.

“No promises, you know me.”  Misha turns for the door, and he doesn’t hesitate before walking out of it, finding Danneel long enough to say a brief thank you and goodbye.  She seems disappointed he’s leaving, so Misha gives her a quick hug and promises to call before walking back out front and calling for a taxi.

The driver doesn’t give him so much as a second glance as he pulls away from the condos, and Misha is relieved that when he catches sight of himself in the guy’s rear view mirror he at least doesn’t look like he’s just had sex.

He packs his things as best he can and showers, falling naked into the hotel bed and wishing it was his own.  Then again, his own bed was also empty, and maybe that’s the thing Misha really missed the most. He hadn’t felt this lonely in a long time, even when he and Vicki had split-

_Vicki._

He may not want to talk about Jensen, but right now he really needs _someone_ , so he grabs his phone and calls Vicki, curling up with his phone between his ear and the pillow.

“I’d remind you how late it is right now but I don’t know that it would do any good,” she sighs, affection in her voice.

“Sorry, can’t sleep.”

“So, late night booty call then?  I thought you said phone sex didn’t help you sleep anymore.”  Misha flushes crimson, knowing what image he’d have to pull up to even get hard again.

“No, I’m- that’s not why I called.”

“Oh, good, because I’m not really awake for that.”  

“I don’t want to leave Supernatural,” he blurts.  The line is quiet for a moment while they both process the sudden change in topic, the mood sobering instantly.

“I know,” she says.

“It’s not fair,” he continues.  “I mean, ratings have been good since I joined, and I get that making me the ‘bad guy’ kinda leads to a particular ending for my character.”

“It does.”

“But...all the changes in Cas this season, the change in his relationship with Dean for one...I’m sure that means he deserves a redemption arc of some sort?  Right?”

“Misha,” Vicki’s voice, to her credit, is filled with patience when she speaks, “you don’t have to justify yourself to me.  I get it, you’re pissed and you’re disappointed. You have a right to be.”

“I just…This is just awful timing,” he finally says.  He knows he’s not fooling her, that she can see right through the fact that he’s keeping a secret, but she doesn’t press.

“Babe, if you need me or Darius to come with you to these cons, we will.  I don’t want you to be alone if you’re spiraling.” Misha’s heart swells and he blinks heavily.

“I know, I know you would.”  He forces himself to take a deep breath.  “I’ll be alright, you’ve both got work to do and I don’t want to take you from it.”

“You’re more important,” she reminds him.  He doesn’t agree, but it comforts him anyway.

“I lost the right to demand that of you when we broke up.”

“Don’t do this.”  Her voice is soothing, just to spite him.  “Don’t take this out on yourself, especially when the show has nothing to do with you being upset.”  Misha flinches at being called out. “You will eventually tell me what’s wrong, won’t you?”

“Once I figure it out myself,” Misha sighs.

“I think you know,” Vicki observes.  “You still have that whole ‘not wanting to ask for help’ thing going on.”

“I don’t need help,” Misha insists, blushing.  “I just need some time.”

“Uh huh.”  Her disbelief is warranted, but Misha is tired and talking to her has eased his anxiety enough to make his eyelids heavy.

“I’ll call you when I land tomorrow.”

“Okay, babe.  Get some rest.”

He hangs up and plugs in his phone, drifting off to sleep to dream of freckles and green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I decided it would be a great idea to sign up for a DCBB this year *facepalms* so sadly I'm not sure when the next update will come out BUT rest assured this fic is NOT abandoned, it will be finished!


	5. 5. Mistakes Were Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW HELLO HI I STILL EXIST
> 
> I made the mistake of signing up for the DCBB this year and POOF there went all my time to write anything else *sobs*
> 
> Anyway, here's a chapter. Hopefully I will be able to get back to actually updating this on the regular.

**_June 3, 2011_ **

 

Misha was starting to loathe airplanes.

Even with a few days break in between conventions, the constant time zone changes over the past month had knocked Misha’s entire inner schedule out of whack.  He was completely exhausted and outright sick of bouncing between hotel rooms and airports for a show that didn’t even want him anymore. His fear of disappointing his fans was the only thing that kept him moving forward, especially since they were going to be so disappointed once they found out what was happening to him.  He shifts in his not quite large enough seat, breathing in the stale recycled air before letting it out in a sigh.

He’s made up his mind: as soon as he has a full day off, he’s spending the whole time in a quiet park somewhere meditating.  Or napping, he wasn’t picky, so long as he was outdoors.

Darius had pointed out that even though Misha didn’t feel like working, he probably should just to keep his mind off things and keep active as an actor, so he had agreed to work on a miniseries during the upcoming month with a couple of his coworkers and friends from the Supernatural crew.  He had to admit, the premise of this ‘ _ Divine’  _ series wasn’t much further from Supernatural, but it was a chance for him to flex his acting chops and do something new again.  He had the script tucked away in his carry on, already halfway memorized, and was begrudgingly realizing Darius was right.

To alleviate his inevitable loneliness Misha had used every free moment he’d had last month to call or text family and friends back home.  Sure, he had his castmates attending the convention to hang out with, but his natural introversion needed interaction with the people closest to him, who knew him best and knew what he needed to hear.  Vicki was always excited to hear his travel stories, and his mom and brother just liked hearing he was doing okay, but if Misha was completely honest with himself he looked forward to talking to Jensen the most.  

His and Jensen’s calls and texts were no different than anyone else’s on the surface, all the same stories and the same banter.  Of course, what Misha didn’t admit during those conversations was how every single night, when he was lying awake trying to catch what little sleep he could, his thoughts were always drawn inescapably to Jensen.  The physical feel of Jensen in his arms, the way he’d belly laugh even if what Misha said wasn’t really that funny, and how those green eyes would focus on him telling a story like he was all that mattered. Just hearing Jensen answer the phone with that happy  _ Hey Mish  _ was enough to improve his mood.  He  _ missed  _ him, more than he really should considering Jensen was still ‘just a friend.’

Except Misha’s not-so-platonic feelings keep nagging at him, threatening to overwhelm Misha’s ability to keep them hidden from Jensen.  Even now he’s wondering when Jensen’s going to arrive on Saturday and if they might have time to themselves. 

He really,  _ really  _ should probably talk to Jensen about how he feels, considering it’s the only secret he’s kept from the man the entire time he’s known him.  He just has no idea how.

_ We have to stop fucking around because I ‘like’ like you. _

Misha groans and knocks his head against the plane window, earning him a confused glare from the man in the seat next to him. 

His flight lands in Nashville late enough in the evening that Misha opts to skip dinner in favor of grabbing a few extra hours sleep.  He texts Vicki when he arrives at the hotel and half drags himself into his room, stripping out of his airport scented clothes and collapsing in bed.

 

Even with the extra sleep Misha is still beyond groggy and has to quite literally drag himself out of bed and out the door for his jog the next morning.  The routine helps his body catch up to the time zone, and by the time he’s finished, he’s awake enough to navigate a shower and copious amount of coffee.

Overall he was pleased with how little he spoiled about season seven during his panel, managing by some miracle to not just blurt out  _ Cas is gonna die, brace yourselves _ .  He keeps smiling and keeps pushing forward through photo ops and autographs for the fans even though his body is  _ screaming  _ for sleep.  He doesn’t get any messages from Jensen all day, but Vicki texts him a few times with words of encouragement, or inappropriate photos she found on some porn site, just enough to keep him focused as he signs autographs.  

The fan art he signs helps too.  He never ceases being amazed by the incredible talent that people have, or by the obvious love they have for his character.  

And then there are the ones with Castiel and Dean in some not so innocent settings.

Misha was vaguely aware that some people online saw something  _ more  _ between Cas and Dean, though he hadn’t really done any deep digging.  He isn’t really sure if Jensen is aware of this  _ Destiel _ thing, and adds it to his mental list of stuff to talk to him about.

Like how Misha wants more than a random blow job in a dark room.

With his autograph session over, Misha’s handler walks him to where a car is waiting and he heads back to his hotel.  Bypassing dinner because he’s not even awake enough to dial his phone, he heads back to his room, kicking off his shoes before dropping into bed with his clothes still on and passing out.

 

_ He’s in his Castiel trench coat, wandering around soundstage two.  He’s looking for something, though he’s not sure what, and the different sets passing him by are all empty.  He starts to run, checking each fake room as he passes, still not finding what he’s looking for. Pushing open the door at the end of the building, he’s inside his trailer, and there’s a voice now. _

_ “Misha…” _

_ He spins, looking for the source, and he’s no longer in his trailer, he’s in Jensen’s. _

_ “Misha…” _

_ He turns again, searching for the voice, but there’s no source for it inside Jensen’s trailer.  Frustrated, he moves to the door and pushes it open- _

 

Misha’s eyes snap open, his breaths coming in pants like he’d actually just run the full length of soundstage 2.  

“You okay, Mish?  Sounds like a bad dream.”  Misha flips over, utterly shocked to find Jensen in his room, standing at the foot of the bed.

Jensen.  In his room.  Watching him sleep.

“What the  _ fuck _ you creep? _ ” _ Misha blurts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and sitting up.

“Hello to you, too,” Jensen chuckles, apparently not bothered by the accusation.  “Such a rude hello, and I even bought you dinner.” Jensen gestures broadly at the to-go boxes sitting on the table in the corner, the smell immediately making Misha’s stomach start to rumble.

“How did you get in here?” Misha grouses, rolling out of bed and fixing his rumpled clothes self consciously.

“Never underestimate the power of a charming smile and a small skill at acting,” Jensen hums, obviously proud of himself.  When Misha simply raises an eyebrow, Jensen shrugs and tosses a keycard on the table. “I told the handlers you’d lost yours and I was coming to get a new one for you.”

“You could have just, I don’t know,  _ knocked. _  Like a normal person. _ ” _  Misha drops into one of the chairs and tugs a container towards him.  It’s Asian of some sort but he’s too hungry to worry about a closer inspection, simply grabbing a pair of chopsticks and digging in.

“Well, I was hoping my grand entrance would have gone over a bit different, but you being asleep kinda ruined that.”  Jensen sits across from him and starts to eat as well, though with a bit more table manners than Misha. 

“Think you would have gotten the same what-the-fuck reaction regardless,” Misha says around a mouthful of food.  “Most people don’t appreciate someone just barging into their room unannounced, no matter how pretty they are.”

“Classy Mish.”  Jensen rolls his eyes, then pauses.  “You think I’m pretty?” Jensen smiles, but there’s something genuine about it that hits too close to home.

“Did I say pretty?  I meant pervy, my mistake.”  Misha waves his box of noodles dismissively.

“At least I didn’t sit there and watch you sleep for hours,” Jensen grumbles, shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth sullenly.  “Make me sound like a legit creeper or some shit.” Misha rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else as he finishes his food. He glances at the clock as he sets aside the empty container and reaches for his bottle of water.   _ 11:22. _

“Dammit.”

“What’s the matter now?”

“It’s too late to be eating, I’m going to have to take a longer run tomorrow morning,” Misha complains, downing half the bottle in one go.

“Dude, are you a glutton for punishment?”

“I have a routine, Jensen.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure skipping one day wouldn’t hurt.”

“Says mister ‘I hardly have to work for it’.”

“What?  I go to the gym!”  Misha rolls his eyes and Jensen sets his own food aside, his gaze dropping to the table.  “I’m sure we could work off some of those calories tonight,” Jensen comments offhandedly like he was talking about the weather.  Misha stares at him, desperately trying  _ not _ to think about all the different possibilities that statement had unlocked.   _ Fuck  _ this had bad idea written all over it.

“That’s really the only reason why you’re here, isn’t it?”  Misha has to tease, has to make this a joke because all Jensen wants is some action beneath Misha’s sheets, not Misha himself.   _ Right? _

“To be fair, Rich said you’d skipped dinner, and I was trying to be nice,” Jensen points at the food like it’s supposed to explain everything.

“I’m not your booty call, Jensen.  I’ve got my dignity to consider.” Misha continues the charade, pushing himself to his feet and turning for the bathroom.  Jensen reaches out to grab him, making him stop. Misha’s brain definitely short circuits at the feeling of warm skin wrapped around his wrist.

“Misha, honestly, I just wanted to see you, okay?” Jensen admits like he’s not quite sure what he’s admitting to.  “If you’re not down for anything else, whatever.”

Misha’s not ignorant of their circumstances, he realizes that this con is the last excuse he and Jensen will have to spend time together before filming begins for season seven, before Misha’s last few weeks in Vancouver.  Jensen’s eyes are hopeful, his grip soft but insistent, and standing above him like this has Misha’s memories bouncing back to their time at Danneel’s. His body is reacting to Jensen’s presence already, reaching out for him in subtle rebellion to what Misha’s mind is saying.

He’s in the same room with him and already Misha’s heart hurts from missing Jensen.

Torn between desperately wanting what Jensen is offering and not wanting that to be all they’d ever share, Misha needs to buy himself some time.

“I need a shower,” he says simply.  Jensen releases his hand, Misha feels his gaze on his back as walks to the bathroom, leaving the door open slightly behind him.  “You’re here later than usual,” Misha calls through the door. “Don’t you and Jared like to get here around dinner time?”

“Jared wanted some more time with Gen,” Jensen explains.  “They’re looking at moving, they’ve been crazy busy lately.”  Misha can hear the slight loneliness in Jensen’s voice. Jensen wasn’t truly worried about losing his best friend, but his voice was laced with that melancholy that comes with watching someone’s life change without you.  Having stripped, Misha turns on the water, waiting as it heats up. Though he would have been fine with a smaller room, they insist on putting him in a suite, so the bathroom shower is naturally big enough for four people.  He doesn’t usually notice, because he’s usually alone.

“They’re probably thinking about having kids,” Misha points out.  “You know Jared wants them.”

“Yeah I know, and I don’t blame them for wanting to get out of LA.”  With steam filling the bathroom, Misha steps into the shower, sighing as the warmth soothes away his physical tiredness.  Shampooing his hair, he continues to talk to Jensen over the sound of the water.

“Do you know where they might go?”

“I’m sure Jared wants to go back to Texas, the two of us have talked about it a few times.”  

“That’s a bit of a trip for work,” Misha points out, scrubbing himself down.  “But being happy at home is worth more than a commute.” It was why he lived in Washington, after all, even if the house was empty it was  _ his,  _ and the nature surrounding it made him content.

“Yeah, I guess.”  Jensen’s voice barely carries over the water, but something about it finally clicks for Misha.  Aside from the hope of sex, Jensen is looking for companionship, just trying to find a friend to hang onto as Jared expands his life to include his wife.  Knowing that soon Misha is going to be leaving him as well, Jensen is simply lonely.

Even if it hurts him, Misha can offer Jensen comfort in the form of his body, and he can’t bring himself to say no anymore.

“Get in here before I change my mind,” Misha calls.  The door swings open and Jensen strips quickly, climbing into the shower with a shy smile.

“Shower sex?” he says hopefully.  Misha rolls his eyes and turns them, getting Jensen into the stream of water.

“Be quiet,” Misha orders.  

“Yessir,” Jensen smirks.  Slowly, methodically, he washes Jensen from the head down, massaging shampoo into his short hair, hands digging into the muscles of his shoulders, eventually chasing the lines of soap down his chest.  Jensen had closed his eyes as soon as Misha had started, and his smirk had faded into a content smile. “You should have gone into massage therapy, you’re way too good to let this go to waste, should make some money off it.”

“What can I say, I’ve got talented hands.”  

“I'm counting on it.”  Jensen’s eyes are still closed but his grin is sinful, and Misha can’t help the flush of warmth that runs through his groin.  Jensen was 6ft of sexual perfection, and there really wasn't any avoiding it. Misha trails his fingers down Jensen’s stomach, the curve of his abs that follows his ribs, and back up to his nipples, Jensen inhaling sharply as Misha flicks his thumbs over them.  

“Turns out you really do have perky nipples.”

“Shut uhhh-“ Jensen’s voice breaks off on a gasp as Misha bends to suck gently on one of them, his hand quickly gripping Misha’s damp hair.  His skin tastes faintly of soap but his reaction is worth it.

“What was that?”  Misha switches to the other nub, teasing with his tongue while Jensen’s chest began to rise and fall.

“That’s just playing dirty.”  Misha grins and turns Jensen around, sliding his hands over the planes of Jensen’s back, fingers dipping into the curve of his lower spine before he slides his right hand down to cup his ass.

“You really should work on your glutes, not much here to grab onto.”  Misha gives it a light smack, and Jensen chuckles.

“Yeah, well, not all of us can have a perfect ass like yours,” Jensen shoots back.  Misha traces Jensen’s hips, his hands sliding around his waist, pressing closer until his chest is flush with Jensen’s water warmed skin.  

“So you like my ass?  Good to know.” Jensen simply hums, arms lifting to rest over the top of Misha’s.  Jensen’s shoulders are so very masculine, broad and muscled, but not bodybuilder defined, and Misha starts to play a game of connect the freckles with his lips.

Something in the mood between them shifts, and Jensen is suddenly pressing back into him, their bodies completely flush from shoulders to hips, Misha’s half hard cock siding against his ass.  

“Mish.”  Jensen shifts in Misha’s arms until Misha’s cock slides  _ between _ his cheeks and fuck, Misha was not expecting that.  “ _ Mish.” _  Jensen’s little pleased intake of breath is so hot it has Misha hardening to diamond level  _ instantly _ .  He wants him,  _ god  _ does he want to just bend Jensen over...

“Jensen,” Misha’s voice is rough with lust, betraying him completely, “are you- have you ever-“ Misha is struggling to speak but Jensen seems to understand.

“I’ve done it to women,” he admits, “but no, I’ve never...you know.”  Misha drops his chin to nuzzle Jensen’s exposed neck, his arms wrapping tighter around Jensen’s waist as he fails to compose himself.

“Is that something you’d want?”  He hears the tremble in his voice as he struggles to breathe.

“I think...I think I’d like to see how it feels?”  Jensen’s deep voice is so breathy and nervous and Misha groans into his ear.  So Jensen wasn’t quite ready to go all in, Misha could handle that. Just some prostate action, maybe sucking Jensen off while he uses his finger to...

“Okay, I can do that.”  Misha presses soft kisses against Jensen’s back, grabbing the washcloth and sliding his hand down till he’s moving between Jensen’s cheeks.  “Relax,” he breathes when Jensen starts to tense up. “Just cleaning, okay?” Jensen nods and Misha washes him thoroughly, not missing the way Jensen starts to cant his hips back as Misha works, the way his breaths start to come shorter.  Once he’s satisfied, he rinses them both one last time and turns off the water, handing Jensen a towel as he dries himself. He doesn’t stop his eyes from trailing down Jensen’s body, and he’s pleased to see that whatever nerves or apprehension Jensen might be feeling haven’t reduced his desire, his cock heavy between his legs.  Jensen smirks at Misha and hangs his towel up, walking out of the bathroom with a sway in his hips. Misha follows with a smile, pausing just a moment to grab what he needs out of his toiletry bag.

He nearly loses his footing at the sight that greets him when he walks out of the bathroom.

Jensen has thrown back the blankets, sprawled across the bed on his back with his legs spread wantonly, arms behind his head, and a cheeky grin on his face.  

“What fuckery is this?” Misha gasps.  The lights in the rest of the room are off, Jensen must have turned them off before he joined Misha in the shower, so he leaves the bathroom light on, shutting the door halfway to allow him some light to see by.

“You’re so easy to wind up,” Jensen teases, “like a little toy for me to play with.”  Misha smacks his thigh, getting a small ‘ _ ow’  _ from Jensen.

“If you’re gonna be an asshole I can just not pay any attention to  _ your  _ asshole,” Misha scoffs.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Jensen pouts.  Misha crawls up onto the bed between Jensen’s spread legs, kneeling with his knees pressed against his thighs.  He lifts his hands and notices Jensen’s eyes following the bottle of lube, his nerves starting to show through his swagger.

“You sure you want to do this?” Misha asks, his empty left hand running down the outside of Jensen’s thigh, skin still damp from the shower.

“I’m fine,” Jensen insists with a grunt as he adjusts the pillow beneath his head.

“Jensen-“

“C’mon, Mish.”  Jensen looks up at him, a softer, more genuine smile on his face, and Misha knows it’s a face he’ll never say no to.  Misha runs his hand over Jensen’s stomach and down his happy trail towards his cock, smiling as the muscles bunch and twitch under his touch.  

“Ticklish?”

“We ain’t gonna fucking find out,” Jensen huffs.  There’s a bit of an urgency in Jensen’s voice, and he realizes just how nervous Jensen actually is.  Not wanting to tease, Misha slides back so he can lay on his stomach between Jensen’s thighs, holding himself up on his left elbow as Jensen’s legs spread further to accommodate him.  Misha brings his lips to Jensen’s cock, pressing soft kisses from the base to the tip before chasing the same path with his tongue. He repeats the motion and Jensen lets out a long sigh, his body relaxing as Misha finally wraps his lips around him and sinks down.

The heady scent of  _ Jensen  _ fills his nose and Misha has to remind himself that he has a goal here, because honestly, he could keep sucking Jensen down till he comes and not get enough.  When Jensen moans softly Misha reluctantly pulls off his cock so he can see what he’s doing.

“Miiiish, come back,” Jensen whines, and Misha smiles as he pours some lube out onto his hand.

“Easy, handsome,” he soothes teasingly, “I’m assuming you want me to do this the not painful way.”  Jensen looks down his body at Misha, his face an unamused scowl. 

“Stop stalling and get on with it.”  His voice, dark with lust and impatience, sends a shiver down Misha’s spine.

“So bossy,” Misha huffs, his own voice a husky shell of what it usually is.  Looking back down at what he’s doing, he slides his slicked fingers over Jensen’s entrance, one finger just barely putting pressure on the muscle.  Jensen tenses but Misha is ready for it, leaning over and sliding deep on his cock, swallowing around him. 

“ _ Fucking  _ hell.”  Jensen slides a hand into Misha’s hair, pressing gently at the back of his head, and Misha takes advantage of his distraction to press his finger past the muscle, moving slowly until it's lost completely in tight heat.

_ Oh god... _

Misha fleetingly imagines how that heat would feel wrapped around his cock and he suddenly feels like he may not survive this.

“Okay.”  Jensen’s voice is breathy, kind of wrecked in a way that makes Misha preen.  “Okay, that...it feels…” Misha pulls off of him, Jensen’s hand still lost in his hair as he wipes a stray bit of saliva off on Jensen’s thigh.

“Uncomfortable?” he offers.  Jensen shakes his head. “Weird?” 

“Yeah, but...not in a bad way?”  Misha presses soothing kisses along Jensen’s thighs as he waits for Jensen’s body to accept the intrusion.  When he feels him relax completely, Misha starts to slowly slide his finger out and then back in again, just small movements to get Jensen used to the idea.  Misha watches Jensen closely, and he sees it, the moment Jensen starts to realize how good this could feel.

“You okay?” he asks, not even ashamed as he nuzzles into Jensen’s intimate places, and Jensen nods, a small smile on his face.  Misha starts to move faster, sliding a little further, moving slightly side to side, stretching Jensen without him even noticing.  With his free hand, he adds a little more lube and turns his attention back to Jensen’s cock, licking and kissing down a vein as he crooks his finger, caressing that glorious bundle of nerves.

_ “ _ Oh,  _ fuck,” _ Jensen gasps, his hand, which had been gently caressing Misha’s scalp, tugs hard at Misha’s hair.  “Shit, Misha.” Taking the broken sound of his name as encouragement he starts to slide a second finger in next to the first and is weirdly proud when Jensen relaxes into it much faster.  In fact, it doesn’t take long until he’s actually matching Misha’s movements with tiny rolls of his hips. Jensen is groaning and panting as Misha makes it to three fingers and, his inhibitions melting away and he’s so fucking beautiful Misha has to close his eyes, resting his head on Jensen’s hip to catch his breath.  

Misha has a brief moment of clarity, and the thought that he shouldn’t be doing this comes to mind.  He shouldn’t because he cares more about Jensen than either of them realized and Jensen doesn’t know.  But Jensen is so open and trusting right now and Misha’s just a man, he’s not strong enough to resist this.  He  _ wants _ and right now he’s unable to stop himself from  _ taking. _

“ _ Fuck. _ ”  Jensen’s needy whine reaches down into Misha’s core, tugging his gaze back up to Jensen’s face.  “Don’t stop,” Jensen pleads, “Mish don’t fucking stop.” Misha groans and curls his fingers just so, finding Jensen’s prostate again and setting his back arching off the bed.

“Feels good?” Misha gasps as he watches Jensen come apart.  He’s close to coming himself, all it would take is a few strokes on his cock and he’d be  _ gone. _

“Fuck yes,” Jensen nods frantically, chest heaving.  “Bet it’d be better if you were fucking me.” Misha’s stomach twists and he ignores it and the interested twitch in his groin.

“For both of us,” Misha mutters to himself as he slides his fingers over Jensen’s prostate again.

“Well, why don’t you?” Jensen asks once he’s finished moaning.  

“Why don’t I what?”  Misha spreads his fingers some to add more stretch and is surprised when Jensen sits up on his elbows to look at Misha, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

“Just fuck me,” Jensen grunts.  Misha stops, ignoring the way Jensen’s body tries to keep up the momentum he had built.  He also ignores the weird sort of half moan half whimper that escapes his own throat without his permission.

“You want- you really…?”

“Why not?  You’ve got me all ready, might as well go all in.”  Jensen’s voice is steady even if Misha can see how fast his pulse is racing by the vein in his neck.  Jensen is flushed from his hairline to his shoulders, eyes blown wide with lust and it’s because of  _ Misha _ .

“Are you sure?” Misha asks to stall for time as he attempts to think about this with three fingers still buried in Jensen’s ass and the scent of Jensen’s sex thick in his nose.  A little voice of reason tries to tell Misha they should really talk about this, they shouldn’t-

“I’m not some goddamn delicate princess, Mish,” Jensen growls deeply, rolling to the side of the bed.  Misha is forced to remove his hand, sitting back so Jensen can reach for whatever he’s looking for.

“I don’t know, have you seen the side by side photos of you and Rapunzel?”  Jensen looks back to glare at him over his shoulder, but it just makes him that much sexier so Misha grins back.

“What part of ‘not a princess’ was hard to understand?” Jensen has grabbed his pants, and the next thing Misha notices is a foil packet hitting him in the face while Jensen tosses his wallet back on the floor.

_ Holy fuck, he brought a condom. _

“Seriously?  Did you just throw a condom at my face?” Misha snaps, snatching it up off the bed.

“Not my fault you can’t catch,” Jensen smirks.  “And you deserved it.” He hesitates for a moment and Misha finally sees some of his nerves start to show as he turns himself over and positions himself on his hands and knees.  Misha reaches down to squeeze the base of his cock, trying to keep himself from losing it right then and there.

“I like this view,” Misha hums, moving forward to run his hand up Jensen’s thigh and over his hip.

“Yeah, well, the  _ view  _ would like you to get on with it,” Jensen huffs.  

“Yessir.”  Misha leans forward so he’s pressed against Jensen, coaxing him onto his elbows to arch his back further, his hand trailing down the length of Jensen’s spine.  Jensen wiggles his ass impatiently against Misha’s crotch. 

“Not.  A. Fucking.  Princess.” 

“You’ve got a day's worth of photo ops and panels tomorrow,” Misha reminds him.  “If you want to have a hard time walking in front of all those people I can gladly make that happen.”  Jensen huffs but stills his hips, and Misha grabs for the lube and the condom. He slides the latex on, glad Jensen can’t see his nervous fumbling and pours some more lube over Jensen’s entrance and his cock.  He slides his three fingers in again, stretching them apart as best he can and Jensen groans into the bed.

“I thought I asked to be fu- _ uuuck _ -“  Misha starts pressing into Jensen, effectively cutting off any more complaints.  Agonizingly slow, Misha slides forward, unable to stop watching as Jensen’s body takes him inch by inch.

His hips finally press against Jensen’s ass and he can’t breathe, he can’t even  _ move  _ because of his heart leaping into his throat, choking him with emotions he didn’t want to feel.  He always thought romance novels were a crock of shit, but now that he’s inside Jensen he feels like he’s finally whole, when before he never knew he wasn’t.  At this moment, he realizes he is painfully, completely, gone on Jensen Ackles.

Jensen starts to pull away, and Misha pulls him back with a grunt, breaking him out of the emotional feedback loop in his brain.

“Come on,” Jensen pants, “I may be new at this but I think you’re supposed to move.”

“Shut up,” Misha scoffs, rolling his hips slowly to test Jensen’s readiness.

“Dammit,  _ move  _ you fucker.”  Misha can’t help but smile at Jensen’s impatience.

“I guess from this angle that’s an accurate description.”  He starts slow but deep, sliding nearly all the way out and pushing their hips flush again, and Jensen’s moans almost sound surprised.

“This is...this is…”

“Obviously not enough, since you’re still talking,” Misha huffs, a hard thrust slapping skin against skin.  Jensen’s throaty cry is  _ delicious _ , and Misha kicks up the intensity, watching Jensen’s entire body grow flushed and shiny with sweat.  Jensen’s hips are meeting Misha’s thrusts now, and as Jensen arches his back he cries out in sudden bliss as Misha’s cock slides over his prostate.

“ _ Jesus,  _ fuck,” Jensen groans, his head thrown back.  Misha bends over Jensen’s back, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest.

“Follow my lead,” he breathes and Jensen nods.  Gripping him tightly, Misha sits up, tugging Jensen with him.  Jensen is pressed to his chest now, hips still canted back so Misha can grind up into him.  At this angle, he’s hitting obscenely deep inside Jensen, and Jensen’s moans voice his appreciation.  “ _ Fuck _ , look at you,” Misha groans, reaching a hand down to wrap around Jensen’s cock.

“ _ Misha,” _ Jensen moans his name, his head thrown back on his shoulder and Misha latches onto his neck, sucking and nipping, but keeping it gentle enough not to leave a mark.  He’s pumping his hips quickly, his hand sliding just as fast over Jensen’s cock, and he’s just hoping he can hold out long enough to get Jensen off.

“Come for me,” Misha pleads into Jensen’s ear.  He’s starting to lose his rhythm, his body locking up to brace for his release.  “ _ Ahh _ , Jensen please!”

“Oh,  _ fuck! _ ”  Jensen’s voice trails off into unintelligible groans as he comes over Misha’s fist, Misha filling the condom immediately after, his arm wrapped so tight around Jensen’s chest he’s afraid he might leave a bruise.  Misha hasn’t come this hard in ages, and even as they come down he doesn’t want to let Jensen go, his warmth in his arms and his body pressed to his skin so...perfect. Carefully they collapse sideways on the bed, Misha pulling out and watching as Jensen rolls onto his stomach with a groan, turning his head to face Misha.

“You okay?” Misha asks.

“I’m good.”  Jensen grins, but it turns into a wince when he shifts his hips.  “That’s gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow isn’t it?”

“Interesting choice of words,” Misha chuckles.  After a moment, Jensen starts laughing too, his soft smile and flushed cheeks wrinkling into laugh lines.   _ God, he’s beautiful.   _ Misha unconsciously reaches out, his fingers running over Jensen’s cheek to his jaw as he leans in for a soft kiss.

It isn’t until Jensen’s eyes widen in surprise that Misha realizes what just happened.  Turning away before Jensen can see his panic, he makes his way to the bathroom to clean up and toss the condom.  He’s washing his hands when he feels his world start to crumble around him, leaning heavily on the counter.

He’d just fucked Jensen.

And now he was completely  _ fucked. _

He never thought it would get this far, at least not this quickly.  Handjobs, okay. Blow jobs, Misha could deal. Then he’d expected Jensen would get tired of the novelty and they’d go back to just friends.  There was no going back for Misha now. He’d just slept with Jensen and it was incredible, but it was what came after that scared him the most.  That bliss, that contentment, that need to hold Jensen close and soothe him- all the things platonic friends with benefits aren’t supposed to have- and it’s all Misha wants.

He  _ wants  _ Jensen.

“Mish?”  Jensen is standing in the doorway to the bathroom with half a smile on his face, his pants loosely situated on his hips.  Not wanting to be naked for this, Misha scrambles for his pajamas, tugging them on quickly.

“Can we talk about this?” Misha asks quietly.  The shift in mood is immediate.

“About what?”  Jensen’s voice is cautious, his smile fading as he leans on the doorframe.

“This,” Misha repeats, gesturing between them.  “What happened tonight shouldn’t have happened.”

“Why not?”  Jensen is frowning now, obviously confused, and Misha struggles to find his words.

“Because we’re not ‘us’,” he sighs.  

“Of course we’re not,” Jensen shrugs, “I thought we made it clear this was just a ‘friends with benefits’ thing.”  Jensen’s body language is closing off, getting defensive.

“You’re right, and that’s why it should never have gotten this far.”  Misha turns away, running his hand through his hair as he tries to find the words he needs.

“You never took sex off the table,” Jensen points out.

“I didn’t think I’d have to,” Misha blurts before he can think better of it.  He can see the change that comes over Jensen’s body, his hurt at Misha’s bluntness straightening his spine and turning into offense.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take advantage of you,” Jensen spits.  Misha knew this conversation wasn’t going to go well before they’d fucked, but Jensen’s anger was still a slap to the face.

“You didn’t,” Misha insists.  

“Well make up your fucking mind, because it sure as hell sounds like I just made you do something you didn’t want to do.”

“Jensen, stop, that’s not what this is about.”

“Okay, then what?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while about this whole arrangement thing.  I wanted to wait till I saw you in person this weekend, and...well…” He was just making this worse, judging by Jensen’s scowl.

“What about it?”

“Slowing down, taking a step back.”  Jensen shakes his head, turning from Misha and starting to pace.

“So, you just decided to get off one last time before saying ‘hey, we need to stop this’?” 

“No, Jensen, I didn’t mean-“

“You didn’t mean to invite me into the shower, to bring up me bottoming?  You didn’t mean to fuck me?” Jensen’s spitting the words at Misha and they’re stabbing him like needles.  The fact that those words are the truth is what hurts the most.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want…”  Misha can’t finish his sentence and Jensen aggressively finishes fastening his pants.

“You know, if you want to call it off, just say so,” Jensen shrugged coldly, turning away from Misha to finish getting dressed.  “It’s not that hard.” He pauses as he pulls on his shoes to turn back to Misha. “Oh, and generally, it’s a lot easier to do  _ before  _ you invite someone into the shower, especially if that was your plan the whole goddamn time.”  Misha’s chest is crumbling under the weight of Jensen’s anger, and he’s unable to respond, no matter how hard he tries to get the words out.   _ Don’t leave me like this.   _ He wants to plead with him, to confess what he’s feeling, but it’s like he’s forgotten how to speak.  Jensen’s eyes grow darker with anger and hurt as the silence stretches on, and he tugs his other shoe on, gathering his things.  “Well you win, Misha. We’re done.” Jensen spins on his heel and storms out of Misha’s room. 

The finality in the word ‘done’ is deeper than just their sexual fling, Misha realizes.  

Jensen is  _ done _ with him.

The door slamming shut is like a gunshot, and Misha collapses, dropping to the floor with his back against the bed.  He knows he’s going to hurt, but at the moment he’s numb, unable to do anything except sit and wonder how some of the best sex he's ever had just turned into one of the worst nights of his life.


	6. Chapter 6: Leave You Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW HELLO SORRY FOR THE LONG HIATUS I DIDNT REALLY MEAN TO LEAVE YOU HANGING LIKE THAT :((((
> 
> All the comments asking me to continue this have been most encouraging, thank you guys for letting me know you care, it really does mean a whole heck of a lot ❤️
> 
> I’m posting this on mobile, hopefully the formatting isn’t crappy *sigh*
> 
> Anyway here’s another chapter <3 I hope you enjoy it!!

**_June 5th, 2011_ **

Misha avoids talking to anyone the next morning aside from his handler and the driver taking him to the airport.  When he does speak it’s in clipped, one word answers, and he feels bad for his handler because it’s not her fault, he just needs to get out of this hotel as fast as possible.  

He’s recognized while walking through the airport, and for the first time ever he ignores the girl who calls his name.  At least in his misery he doesn’t look up from his shoes to see the disappointment in her eyes. 

For the next few weeks he ignores every call and every message he gets that doesn’t pertain to work, heading back to LA just long enough to put on a fake smile and a fake happy mood to shoot the  _ Divine  _ series, then going back home to Washington.  

He’s not sure why he’s alienating himself from everyone, just that it feels like a justified punishment for taking Jensen’s friendship for granted.  Misha shouldn’t have agreed to the ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement because deep down he  _ knew _ sex would only amplify what he was feeling.  He had abused Jensen’s willingness to experiment, pretending there could be something more between them, and it was a mistake.  It had all been a big fucking mistake and yeah, Misha deserves to feel this awful.

 

**_June 26, 2011_ **

 

“Yeah, that’s great.”  Misha smiles a real smile for the first time in weeks.  “You sure you don’t need any help?”

“Too many cooks in the kitchen as it is,” Ryan laughs.  “Give us till the end of the week and you can start moving in.”  

“I could not have picked a better contractor.  Well...maybe the set design guys from Supernatural…”

“Yeah well, they just gotta make shit look pretty.  I build it to last.”

“Thanks again, Ryan.”

“Sure thing.  Call me if you need me.”  Misha hung up the phone, smiling down at the paint cards in his hands.  He’d spent most of the morning at the Home Depot, comparing colors and collecting a crap ton of samples to test in each room of his house.

_ His house. _

Just the hardwood floors in the living room and Misha would finally have a house that was 100%  _ him. _  The cashier probably thinks he’s nuts, judging by the face she makes as she rings in close to fifty paint samples, but he doesn’t care.

On his way home, he stops to treat himself to tea at a local hole in the wall cafe, a place he’s already been to so much he’s starting to recognize the baristas.  He makes his order at the counter, zoning out on paint combinations as he waits, trying to figure out which room he wanted which colors. It isn’t until he hears Jensen’s name that he even really notices the TV in the seating area is on.

_ “- Ackles and his former co-star Danneel Harris may be rekindling an old romance.  The possible couple were spotted out shopping together on Monday-“ _

He’s managed to avoid thinking about Jensen for so long that the out of the blue reminder hurts like  _ hell _ .  

Unable  _ not  _ to look, Misha glances at the TV, the candid photos of Jensen and Danneel a bit blurry, but clear enough to see her on his arm, and resting her head on his shoulder in a later photo.  If he and Jensen weren’t over before, they certainly were now, judging by the smiles on both their faces. Misha turns away from the images of Jensen and Danneel, taking his cup from the barista and leaving his good mood behind.  

Of course, to add a little salt to the wound he got the scripts for the first two episodes of season seven not ten minutes after getting back home to his apartment.  

Nothing like reading about his death to make him feel better.

 

**_July 2, 2011_ **

 

Misha stumbles into his mostly boxed up apartment, sweaty and exhausted from a late afternoon run, planning to just shower and go to sleep early, but his plans are derailed when he finds his two best friends kicked back in his living room on the only piece of furniture he hasn’t had loaded into a moving pod, a half empty bottle of wine on the bare coffee table, and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen.  

Darius and Vicki have apparently shown up for an intervention.

“Hey, he’s home!” Darius calls out when the door opens, pushing himself to his feet.  Misha doesn’t even say hello, just walks into the kitchen and tosses his keys on the counter.  He grabs a bowl and helps himself to the food he knows Vicki cooked, pausing just long enough to wash his hands before making his way to the folding card table he was using temporarily.  His lack of greeting chills the mood in the apartment immediately, and he feels both sets of eyes watching him closely as he gathers up some of the meatless chili with a spoon.

“Misha, love, talk to us,” Vicki says quietly.  

“Don’t really feel like it.”  He scoops the chili into his mouth, ignoring the scalding his tongue gets.

“Yeah, we could tell by the lack of response to our texts and calls and fucking smoke signals,” Darius scoffs, setting a glass of wine in front of Misha as he drops into the chair next to him.  Misha keeps eating to hide the guilt he’s felt ever since he started to shut them out. He listened to their voicemails, read their increasingly desperate texts, but he just...he isn’t ready to  _ talk  _ about this yet.

“What Darius is not so delicately saying is we’re worried,” Vicki adds, running her hands over his back soothingly as he shoves more food in his mouth.  Having been together so long before, she still knows all the right pressure points that help him relax, and he leans into her hands as they massage some of his tension away.

“All of us are worried,” another male voice says from the hallway.  Misha nearly chokes on his food, pushing to his feet so quickly he almost knocks Vicki over.

“ _ Phillip _ ?!” Misha gasps in stunned disbelief.

“Yeah, they called in the big guns,” Phillip laughs, letting Misha embrace him.  Phillip had been a friend of Misha’s since he first moved to LA looking to start acting.  He worked as a personal assistant, changing clients from time to time, and he’d helped Misha understand a bit more about how LA worked than what people see on the surface, the nature of greasing palms and being persistent enough to be noticed.  He was a good friend, but a friend Misha never saw much because they both kept fairly busy schedules.

“I’m glad you’re here, even if it is subterfuge,” Misha says, shooting a glare at Darius.

“I’m not sorry,” Darius shrugs.  “You need to talk about what’s going on, and if it takes calling in a favor from Phillip, then so be it.”  Misha looks between his three friends, people he cared about dearly and who he knew cared about him for reasons he couldn’t fathom.  Misha walks back to the table, dropping to sit in his chair and taking a few sips of wine.

Then he starts talking.  About everything that had happened since the day he’d found out he was leaving Supernatural.  He doesn’t spare any details, not even the x-rated ones that don’t bother Darius and Vicki anymore, but sure as hell made Phillip blush.  He nearly falls apart when he recounts the argument he and Jensen had, but manages to make it through to the end.

“I’m sorry I shut you guys out,” Misha apologizes quietly.  “I was just so ashamed, I felt so bad about what I’d done I couldn’t face you, because I knew I’d have to face all this.”

“Mish, honey,” Vicki’s voice is soothing against the hard edges he’d just exposed.  

“Don’t,” Misha sighs, pushing to his feet and walking down the hall towards his room.  He doesn’t want them to feel sorry for him, he deserves to feel this shitty. Closing his bedroom door behind him, he moves towards his mattress, but is only alone for a few minutes before there’s a tentative knock on the door.  The fact that the knock is so cautious tells Misha who’s out there. “Come in,” he calls. Phillip opens the door, walking into the room cautiously. 

“I picked a hell of a time to come visit,” he jokes, leaning on the wall across from Misha’s bed.  The room is empty without his furniture, nothing but a laundry hamper and his bed, but now that Phillip is there the space feels small and constricting.

“No kidding.”  Misha scrubs a hand down his face, dropping back against the sheets.

“Look, Mish, I’ve heard a lot about Jensen over the years.  He sounds like a good guy, I’m sure if you just talked to him, you guys could work this out.”

“If he wants to speak to me ever again,” Misha huffs at his ceiling.  

“Mish, I don’t pretend to know your situation,” Phillip shrugs, “but I know you, and you’re doing that thing where you punish yourself for no good reason.”  

“I used my best friend for sexual gratification, I’d say that’s a good enough reason.”

“You ever stop to think that maybe he was the one using you?” Phillip counters.

“I-”  Misha’s protest dies on his lips because no, that was never something he’d taken into consideration, that Jensen was the one using  _ him _ .  “Using me for what?”

“Same thing.  Physical intimacy, a way to explore his sexuality with someone who won’t deny him, or out him.”  Misha stares wordlessly at Phillip, trying to wrap his head around what his friend is suggesting.  Would Jensen do something like that? Misha’s stomach drops, churning the chili he ate. He knew Jensen didn’t  _ care  _ about him, but to go so far as to  _ use  _ Misha?  The thought physically hurts.

“I don’t think that helps at all,” Misha mutters.  “Now instead of being pissed at myself I’m pissed at him.”

“Except you’re not,” Phillip laughs.  “You think this asshole hung the moon.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve kept up with you since you landed this gig and every time the two of you are in a room together your eyes do that thing where they look down but they’re not looking at anything, and my guess it’s because you’re both talking yourselves down from your man crush.”  Misha raises a skeptical eyebrow and Phillip raises his hands. “What? They do.”

“Has anyone ever told you that whole reading people shit is creepy?” Misha teases with a small smile.

“Yeah, my ex-girlfriend, but she was only dating me to land an audition with my boss at the time.”  Phillip is completely straight faced but Misha still laughs. Vicki and Darius knew what they were doing when they’d called him in to help.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”  Phillip smiles, walking up to pat Misha on the shoulder fondly.  “Now what do you say we go finish that wine and really get caught up?”  Misha nods, standing and leading the way back into the kitchen, feeling better than he’s felt in weeks.

The four of them stay up obscenely late, getting lost in their conversation the way only good friends can.  By the time 4am rolls around, Misha is in a completely different mood. He hasn’t forgotten his issues with Jensen, but he’s no longer drowning in them, and he’ll take it as a win.  Phillip mentions Random Acts, and he and Vicki immediately launch into discussing the idea she and Misha have about doing a sort of charity scavenger hunt. Misha is suddenly regretting spending the last month moping around because now that he wasn’t on the show, he has time to plan this, maybe actually get it done this year.  It turns out Phillip is his savior a second time that night.

“Tell you what,” Phillip says, all business as he pulls out his phone, “I’m in between clients right now, why don’t you give me contact information for the Random Acts folks, and I’ll see how I can help plan this.”

“You don’t have to do that!”  Misha waves away Phillip’s offer.  “I can’t pay you for that work like you’d deserve!”

“I get paid well enough when I have clients, and my services will be in demand in a couple months to gear up for the awards season.”  Phillip looks up at him expectantly, ready to type information into his phone, and Vicki nods at Misha encouragingly. Misha pulls out his phone and reads off the contacts Phillip needs, silently amazed he’s managed to surround himself with such supportive people.  He focuses back in when Phillip continues to speak. “I can act as a liaison while you’re filming or at conventions, and help facilitate when you’re directly available.”

“What are you going to call this thing?” Darius asks.  

“The shorter the better, since you’ll probably be recruiting over Twitter,” Vicki points out.

“Or something with a good abbreviation anyway,” Phillip agrees.  The three of them toss around a few ideas while Misha types a couple different options out on his phone.  As soon as he types it in, he knows which one he’s going to use.

“I’ve got it!” he announces.  “The Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen.  Or GISHWHES for short.” 

“I like it,” Vicki laughs, “it’s fun and a little bit ridiculous, just like you are.”  Misha grins at the compliment.

“You made me that way.”  She smiles softly at the reminder, but doesn’t say anything.  

When they all finally wind down for bed around 5am, Misha has a newfound purpose, a goal to work towards, and he’s feeling better than he has in a long time.  Vicki comes into his room as Darius and Phillip argue over the couch and the air mattress, since all his furniture is packed there’s only so many places people can sleep.  She slides into bed next to him, making some notes in her notebook she always has by her side. They carry the weight of history between them, but Misha’s never felt it this much, not like he is tonight.  For a moment it feels like nothing’s changed, that their breakup ten years ago hasn’t happened and it’s just another night together. She sets the notebook down on the floor and flips off the light, Misha just barely able to see the shape of her as his eyes adjust to the dark.

“You ever feel regret about us?” Misha asks after a while.  He hears her roll towards him.

“No,” she says gently, reaching out to take his hand.  “I’ll always love you Misha, but we both needed to grow, and we needed to do it in our own ways.”

“I know.”  He sighs heavily, squeezing her hand and pulling it to his lips.  “Vicki I don’t know what I’m going to do about Jensen.”

“Talk to him.”

“I...I can’t.  I  _ need _ to forget him.”

“Why?  Why give up so easily?”  There’s a lot of concern in her voice, worry at how out of character Misha’s been.

“Because Jensen- he can’t be seen holding my hand in public.”  Admitting out loud he wants Jensen as  _ more  _ is daunting, but Vicki’s always given him the courage to be honest.  “He can’t risk a career on the off chance that there’s more between us than sexual tension.”

“Just sounds like a challenge to me.”  He can see her face now in the dim light, a raised brow and a smirk.  Misha shakes his head with a sad smile.

“Of course it does.”  They're quiet for another moment, then Misha breaks the silence again.  “One of your messages you left me mentioned you’d met someone?”

“Her name is Heather.  She’s a lot to handle, but I’m enjoying it.”  

“Good, Vick.  I’m happy for you.”  And he really is, he realizes with a smile.

Vicki falls asleep a little while after that, and Misha, content in knowing that, in spite of everything, he’s not alone, drifts off shortly after.

 

**_July 18, 2011_ **

 

Misha expects things to be a little bit awkward once he’s back in Vancouver for filming, but the crew all act like nothing has changed, and Misha starts to get that feeling of home creeping back in.

Well...almost.

Having let his lease expire on his own apartment, he’s put up in a small, furnished one by the network for the next couple weeks.  It’s impersonal and nothing like what Misha would have chosen, and it just makes him miss his house. He finally moved in all his belongings a few days before flying out, and the rest of his furniture will be there when he gets back from filming.  Having something of his own, something he helped build with his own two hands, was more satisfying than he thought it would be, and he can’t wait to finally  _ enjoy  _ it.

He doesn’t have any filming his first day, just some final makeup tests for the leviathan effects later on in the episode.  He has crazy amounts of monologuing to do for the next day's filming, so he studies his script as he’s poked at and painted on by the makeup crew.  Jared comes in when he’s finished filming for the day to keep him company, genuinely curious about what the makeup process was like for the disintegration of Cas’ vessel.  

“This is gonna look gross as shit,” Jared laughs gleefully, poking at a piece of the latex makeup that was going to be applied to Misha’s face and hands.

“You don’t have to wear it.”  Misha gets poked with a makeup brush for his snark, the artist Kasey smiling at him to soften the blow.

“I just can’t wait for the whole hands in your stomach bit,” Jared adds, leaning back in his chair.  “Hey, now that you’re back in Vancouver, there’s this new place we should go check out.” 

“What kind of place?”

“This vegan restaurant.  Danneel googled it and she and Gen convinced me and Jensen to go the other day.  It’s actually not bad, you’d like it.” Jared is smiling, oblivious to the dagger he’d just lobbed at Misha’s heart.  Hearing a rumor on TV was one thing, learning that they’ve gone on a double date was another. He shouldn’t be jealous, he was the one that ended things between he and Jensen.  He should be happy for his best friend. He just… can’t. 

Maybe he’s farther gone on Jensen than even he realized.

“Do you think we’ll have time?” Misha asks, pushing that dangerous thought away.  “I’m not here very long.”  _ And I don’t want to think about Jensen and Danneel out on a date while I’m eating dinner. _  Misha turns his head as Kasey starts to work on another section of his face, this time removing the effects makeup.  He’s glad for the excuse to look away from Jared’s happy smile.

“I’m sure we won’t be filming 24 hours a day,” Jared laughs.  “It’s just dinner.”

“We’ll see.”  Jared seems to sense something is wrong, resting his hand on Misha’s shoulder.

“Want to grab a beer tonight?”  His voice is kind, all teasing pretense gone, replaced with genuine concern.  Misha has an early call and he knows Jared is going to invite Jensen, too, so he shakes his head.  

“Not tonight, thanks anyway.”

“I just… I’m gonna miss you, man,” Jared adds, and Misha immediately feels like a total asshole.

“Sorry, Jared.  Another night, I promise, okay?”  Misha smiles up at his friend reassuringly, and Jared smiles back as he walks out of the trailer.

Shortly after that Misha heads back to his impersonal apartment, and he goes through the motions of getting ready for bed, but isn’t surprised when he lays awake for hours instead.  

 

The following day Misha is whisked away to the garden location they’d used for heaven previously, filming his solo monologue most of the morning.  He doesn’t get back until almost dinner time, and when he swings by the mess tent Jim Beaver is still there, eating on his own. Misha chooses to keep him company, listening to Jim chat and telling stories with him until Jim is called away and Misha heads back to his trailer, opting to sleep on the familiar couch rather than go back to the unfamiliar apartment.

The next couple days are the same, Misha filming alone while performing his ‘miracles’, his scene with Mark Sheppard, and the guest actors, and he’s starting to wonder if the producers are intending to keep him and Jensen apart.  He’s heard muttering from some of the crew about how he and Jensen are avoiding each other, and while Misha isn’t doing it on purpose, he can see how it might be weird that neither of them have been going out for drinks or hanging together after filming.  He’s gone out with Jared for that beer he promised him, but it was just the two of them, Jensen apparently giving Jared some excuse not to show.

Misha starts to wonder if he’ll ever  _ not  _ feel like an asshole.

 

San Diego Comic Con gets there before Misha has to film his scenes with Jensen, and the public setting helps Misha keep his emotions under control.  He can slip into that arrogant, self assured headspace he’s cultivated in front of the fans and ignore the churning in his gut whenever he and Jensen are near.  He can smile for photos and answer interview questions while forgetting that he’s barely said anything to his best friend in months. 

When it comes time for the main panel in Hall H, Misha’s actually feeling pretty good, all things considered.  He and Jensen have been civil in public, even if they haven’t quite been meeting each other’s eyes, and there’s a huge Jared sized buffer between them at the table. 

Misha ignores the warm feeling he gets when Sara dances around the question of Castiel’s future and Jensen gets mad on his behalf.

 

**_July 26, 2011_ **

 

**_“_ ** If there was time,” Misha gasps from the floor, trying to look up at Jensen imploringly.  “If I was strong enough, I'd- I'd fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die.”

“Okay,” Jensen says, slightly confused.

“Is it working?” Misha asks after a beat, extending the timing of this take a bit.  Jensen picks up on the change and gives his dialogue pause as well.

“Does it make you feel better?” Jensen asks as he continues with placing his props.  Misha drops his eyes dejectedly, and it’s not  _ entirely  _ acting when he does.

“No. You?”

“Not a bit.”  Jensen’s words are clipped and unsympathetic just like Dean’s should be, but they sting Misha personally.

“And cut!” Phil calls.  There’s a flurry of motion as they come to reset the props Jensen moved during the scene, and the makeup girl Molly kneels down next to Misha to touch up his face and apply a little chapstick.  With the way the makeup was sitting on his face he felt like he could hardly make facial expressions at all, which was frustrating, but he also didn’t want to lick his lips for fear of ingesting it.  Phil is talking to Jensen and the first AD, and when he turns around Misha can tell he’s got the shot he wants. “Misha, come on up,” he says, helping him to his feet. “We’ve got what we need, just going to do the Leviathan effects shots tomorrow.  Guy’s schedule changed so we’re changing call to have you at the lake in the early morning for his shots of you on the next episode, then we’ll be back here on set in the afternoon to see if we can’t finish out both scenes.” Misha nods as he’s spoken to, but he’s not really listening, just watching Jensen out of the corner of his eye as he speaks to one of the camera men.

“Come on, sweetie, let's get that makeup off,” Molly says sweetly, tucking her arm in his and dragging him towards the makeup trailer.  Once they’re out of earshot of everyone else, she starts in on her gossip. “Did you notice the huge stick up Jensen’s ass?” she murmurs.  “He was in some kind of bad mood today.”

“I was wondering why we finished filming so quickly,” Misha shrugs on auto pilot.  Jensen had been the image of professional, not bothering Misha one bit during their takes, and it was telling that the crew assumed Jensen was in a bad mood because of it.  

Misha makes polite small talk while his makeup is removed, along with what feels like the top layer of his skin.  The effects guys come in and explain the process of the leviathan ooze he’ll be dealing with tomorrow, then he’s free for the night.  He says goodnight and leaves the makeup trailer, tugging on his wardrobe uncomfortably. Misha just wants to change clothes and get some sleep, exhausted from the days shooting, and with his mind wandering he  _ literally _ runs into Jensen as he turns the final corner to his trailer.  Stumbling backwards, Misha nearly loses his balance, but Jensen reaches out and grabs his arm to steady him.  

“Sorry,” Misha mutters, barely glancing at Jensen’s face before looking back down at his own feet.  Jensen doesn’t say anything. 

He doesn’t move either, Misha notices, just standing where he is, blocking Misha’s way.  He’s close enough Misha can smell his cologne, too, and without permission his mind flashes back to the last time he smelled it, his nose buried in Jensen’s neck and his cock buried somewhere else.  He shifts awkwardly in the silence, about to just turn around and walk the other way, even though his trailer is  _ right there. _

“You’re done filming tomorrow?” Jensen finally asks.

“Yeah.  They’re going to do my shots for the next episode too, just get it all done.”

“Suppose that’ll be a relief for you,” Jensen quips.  Misha doesn’t really know what to say to that so he just shrugs and stays silent, tugging awkwardly at his wardrobe again.  “Really? You’ve got nothing to say?” Jensen laughs bitterly. “Normally you can’t shut up.”

“What do you want me to say?” Misha asks.  This area of the studio is blissfully empty right now, but still Misha keeps his voice to a quiet hiss.

“I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you,” Jensen’s voice is just as quiet as Misha’s.  “I thought you knew me better than that.” It’s enough to get Misha to raise his eyes to Jensen’s face, the bitter glare in his green eyes so unlike him it takes Misha by surprise.

“Well, apparently I didn’t know you as well as I thought,” Misha shoots back.  “Because the Jensen I thought I knew never would have let me fu-“ Jensen slaps his hand over Misha’s mouth, his eyes darting around like he’s afraid someone is listening.  The reminder of Jensen’s image being more important than  _ them _ kicks off Misha’s anger, and Misha bats his hand away, shoving Jensen aside before stomping off towards his trailer.  He tries to slam the door behind him but Jensen kicks it back open, forcing himself into the small space and slamming the door himself.

“You can’t just blurt that shit out,” Jensen scolds, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My apologies.”  Misha doesn’t care that he sounds condescending as he tugs off both his jackets at the same time, throwing them on his table.  “I forget the great Jensen Ackles has his perfect All-American image to uphold.” Misha is expecting that to piss him off, poking at Jensen’s self conscious image issues is one of the easiest ways to press his buttons.  

“Yeah, well not all of us can be as casual as you, mister high and mighty.”

“As  _ casual  _ as me?” Misha scoffs, tossing his tie on the table with his coats.  “The hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“What does it sound like?” Jensen bites.

“I don’t know,” Misha scoffs, “but at the time you didn’t seem to worried about my  _ casual  _ attitude.”  He turns away, undoing the buttons on his cuffs and untucking the white button up.

“Don’t be an asshole, you know how fucking hard this is for me-”

“You didn’t even hesitate that night, Jensen.  Bent right over and asked for it.”

“You know what, fuck you,” Jensen spits.  “I’m glad you’re leaving. You and your fucking superiority complex can go fuck with someone else’s life.”  

Misha’s reacting before Jensen even finishes the sentence.  He spins and shoves Jensen away from him, Jensen slamming hard against the wall of his trailer.  

“Fuck off, Ackles.”  Misha’s not even sure  _ why _ he’s so angry, maybe he’s feeding off of Jensen’s attitude, maybe the fact that he actually has the  _ opposite  _ of a superiority complex, but either way he winds up with his arm pressed against Jensen’s throat, crowding him against the wall.  Jensen’s eyes go wide in surprise, and he struggles briefly to get loose but when Misha presses harder he stops. Jensen’s pupils are blown wide as he relaxes slightly, gasping under the pressure from Misha’s arm, and when Jensen shifts his body Misha can feel his groin pressed into his thigh.

_ Holy shit,  _ Misha realizes,  _ he’s getting hard. _  Misha lets up on the pressure against Jensen’s throat and Jensen sort of whimpers, the noise sending a jolt through Misha’s system.  Misha can’t bring himself to move, because his body is reacting to Jensen’s proximity and he realizes the two of them alone in here with this stewing beneath the surface is an all around  _ bad  _ idea.  Jensen is still pissed at him, Misha can see the anger hasn’t faded in spite of this physical reaction.  Misha hates that he’s here in this position again, he hates that his body wants Jensen so much, he hates that his heart wants him when he’ll never have him.

Jensen’s mouth is on his suddenly, biting and painful, and Misha is powerless to stop himself from kissing back, teeth nipping at lips and flesh just on the edge of too much.  Misha lowers his arm and Jensen surges forward, devouring Misha’s mouth in a clash of teeth, and Misha can taste blood. Misha attempts to push him back against the wall, but Jensen bests him with upper body strength, shoving Misha far enough away to literally rip the white button up open.  His hands busy themselves undoing the belt and fastenings on Misha’s pants, shoving them open before his hands slide possessively around his waist, nails digging into his skin as he pulls Misha flush to his overwhelmingly warm body.

The feeling of Jensen’s denim clad cock colliding with the thin material of his boxer briefs sends a jolt up Misha’s spine, and with a renewed surge of strength he pushes Jensen’s arms away from him.  Jensen literally growls in protest but Misha ignores him in favor of frantically undoing Jensen’s belt, tugging the leather undone and immediately scrambling to undo Jensen’s button and fly, tugging his pants down past his ass.  Jensen grabs Misha’s arms, spinning them to slam Misha against the wall, nearly knocking the wind out of his lungs before he tugs Misha’s pants out of the way as well. Misha moves to reach for Jensen but he’s stopped by the hard line of Jensen’s body, crushing in its weight as he leans in and bites at Misha’s collarbone.  Misha struggles against him, trying to flip them back around but Jensen isn’t having it, grabbing one of Misha’s wrists and pinning that arm above his head. The pressure of Jensen’s fingers is tight enough to bruise as he lifts Misha’s arm, aggressively thrusting against him.

“Fucking hell,” Jensen growls against his ear, adjusting his angle to align their cocks better through the fabric of their underwear.  The rapid, hard pressure on Misha’s cock is almost too much, and he’s barreling down on his orgasm quickly. Images of Jensen actually fucking him like this, with anger fueled desperation and speed, aren’t doing him any favors, and he moans loudly as he comes, his body arching into Jensen’s as Jensen continues to thrust against him.  Misha brings his other hand up, attempting to push at Jensen’s chest, but his muscles aren’t coordinated in his post orgasmic state, and his hand slips on the fabric, sliding up to Jensen’s neck instead.

He doesn’t really mean to squeeze, but the debauched moan that’s ripped from the throat under his fingers has them tightening on instinct and with another  _ pornographic  _ moan Jensen’s body locks up as he comes, grunting on his exhales as it washes over him.

Silence hangs between them in the trailer for a beat.  Release has diffused his anger, and guilt starts to creep up on Misha, especially when Jensen pushes himself off of him without even  _ looking  _ at him, tugging his pants up and fastening them quickly.  Misha tugs his pants back up to his hips as well, ignoring the mess in his boxer briefs to focus on the mess that is his life.

When Jensen does finally look back at Misha, there’s something  _ wrong  _ in his eyes, something like disgust, and it twists a dagger in Misha’s chest to see Jensen looking at him that way.

“Jensen,” Misha tries to apologize.  Jensen slams the door in his face for his trouble.

Misha stays on his feet long enough to lock the door before collapsing on the couch, blinking away tears he refuses to let fall.  Theirs was a friendship he thought would never break, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He curls up on himself, hating himself for letting this happen.   _ How had he let this happen? _  How had he let a chance to talk this out devolve into dry humping against a wall?  Jensen was dating Danneel for fucks sake, he’d just cheated on her because Misha couldn’t exercise self control.  He wouldn’t be surprised if Jensen never spoke to him again.

After a couple hours go by Misha listlessly pushes himself to his feet, eating some random leftovers in his fridge and managing a short shower before pulling on sweatpants and a t-shirt to collapse on his couch again, sheer exhaustion tugging him into a few hours sleep.

 

Misha literally feels like death when he wakes up the next morning.  He stumbles to the bathroom and empties his stomach, wetting a washcloth to wipe down his face.  His entire digestive system is cramping and his reflection in the mirror is pale, a cold sweat on his forehead.

Go fucking figure his last day on set would be spent sick as a dog.

He manages to swallow some water, but everything that goes in is being evacuated, one way or another.  When the PA comes to take him to the makeup trailer, Misha is barely able to open the door for her before running back into the bathroom to gag some more.  She takes off quickly after that.

Bob Singer, the executive producer, shows up with the nurse on call and Misha’s only able to keep from barfing because he has nothing left in his stomach.  He’s barely sitting upright in a chair by his kitchenette, but at least he’s not draped over a toilet in front of his boss.

“It looks like food poisoning,” the nurse says after taking Misha's vitals, his voice pleasantly calm.  “You’ll be fine long term, but you need to at least try and drink some water or Powerade. Dehydration won’t help your condition at all.”

“Thanks,” Misha croaks.  The nurse nods and pushes to his feet, stopping to talk to Bob on his way out.  Another wave of nausea hits him but he breathes through it, Bob leaning on the counter next to him.

“I know this isn’t an ideal situation, Misha, but we’ve got to get these scenes shot today.  We’ll reorganize the schedule while you rest, and come get you in a couple hours, okay?” Misha nods and Bob leaves him to stew in his misery.  

He attempts to drink as much water as his stomach will keep down, and just lays on his couch, covered in sweat and feeling absolutely horrible.  He figures it’s karma, kicking his ass for the type of friend he’s been lately. In fact, when the PA comes for him and he still feels like absolute shit, he  _ knows  _ it is.  The makeup girls have to add foundation to his makeup to hide how pale he is, and they’re constantly dabbing at his forehead to get the sweat off, but Misha is made up with the black leviathan juice and put in wardrobe anyway, staggering onto set.  Jensen takes one look at him, the scowl he’s wearing deepening in concern, and Misha averts his eyes.

They manage to get through a few takes with the black goo dripping down Misha’s face before Misha stumbles to a trash can to heave up the water he’d managed to keep down earlier.  Another couple takes and a wave of dizziness nearly makes him pass out, barely catching his balance on the wall. He apologizes and tries to stand up straight, but the world tilts alarmingly to the right and he nearly topples over again, landing hard against Jensen’s chest.

“Alright, we’re done,” Jensen snaps as Misha’s vision goes blurry again.  The protests being made by the producers are just white noise in Misha’s ears, all he knows is Jensen’s warmth is leading him from set, practically carrying Misha away from the cameras and crew.  As soon as they’re out of the buildings the fresh air helps to clear his head.

“M’fine,” Misha insists, trying to push Jensen away.

“Shut up,” Jensen snaps, tightening his hold on Misha’s shoulders and guiding him into his trailer.  Jensen peels him out of his layers, throwing the Castiel wardrobe over one of the chairs and depositing Misha on the couch without a shirt.  Misha’s still weak, and he can’t wrap his head around what Jensen’s doing.

“Jen-“

“I said shut up,” Jensen snaps again.  He digs through Misha’s trailer till he finds some sweatpants, throwing them at Misha as he moves into the kitchen.  Misha changes out of his slacks into the soft cotton fabric as Jensen returns from the kitchen with a bottle of water and a pack of crackers.  Setting them down on the small coffee table, he sets an empty trash can next to the couch, propping Misha up on some cushions and kneeling next to him.

With a pack of makeup remover wipes Misha has  _ no idea  _ where he found, Jensen starts to wipe his face clean.  Misha’s too weak to protest any of this, so he just closes his eyes and lets Jensen work, leaning slightly into his gentle touches.  He knows Jensen is pissed at him, he knows he owes Jensen an apology, yet here Jensen is, taking care of him with such care and thoughtfulness it makes Misha’s body ache beyond his illness.

Jensen tosses the used wipes in the trash can, draping a blanket over Misha and pushing to his feet.  Misha reaches out weakly, grabbing a hold of Jensen’s hand, and Jensen meets his eyes for the first time during all of this.

Misha recoils at the pain he sees before Jensen covers it up with practiced nonchalance. 

“Get better,” he says quietly, leaving Misha’s trailer.

 

**_July 30, 2011_ **

Misha is recovered by the next day, still a little tired and weak but at least he’s able to keep down some soup and crackers.  After a profuse apology to Bob, Misha is walked through what they have left to shoot before he heads down to makeup. The crew was able to catch the rest of Jensen’s coverage, and Misha’s stunt double had done most of the blocking and the shots from behind, so all that was left was some of the closeups and his solo shots of walking down the hallway in full leviathan drip.

Misha’s heart sinks into his stomach.

His last day of filming ever, and Jensen wasn’t even on set, he and Jared were off on location somewhere filming.  He swallows the lump in his throat and steels himself to do his job, not sulk because his man crush wasn’t there to say goodbye.  He wondered if maybe Jensen was relieved he wasn’t there, if Jensen was maybe glad that he’d come back and Misha would be gone.

Misha shoots his scene.  When he wraps his last shot the crew surprises him with a cake and champagne.  People tell him how much he’ll be missed, they wish him luck, and Misha smiles and thanks them like he’s supposed to, taking off the trench coat for the last time.

He is officially done with Supernatural.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the angst! *nervous/evil laugh*

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are MUCH appreciated! Is there anything you'd like to see? Let me know!


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